A Second Chance
by keyphoenix
Summary: For those who felt Snape was cheated in the books... the life he should have gotten. Beginning right after the last page of DH, a new danger forces Harry and Snape together and makes them see the...good (!) in each other. Completely canon-compliant except for Snape lives. NOT slash, a twist on a mentoring/guardian fic.
1. Surprise

Bright sunlight dazzled through the ethereal windows as Harry and Hermione walked through the halls toward Gryffindor tower, the natural beauty sharply contrasting with the wreckage and death that permeated the castle.

The two walked close together, their light but slow footsteps a representation of their mixed feelings of elation and grief. Ron had returned to the Great Hall to grieve with his family.

As they rounded a corner they saw a ripped book bag lying solitary next to a smashed window, the broken glass littering the books, papers, and quills that lay scattered. It appeared to have been tossed aside haphazardly. A first year potions book sat in a shaft of direct sunlight, the glass fragments causing it to sparkle oddly.

Harry stopped walking.

"I have to go to the Shrieking Shack." he said suddenly.

"The Shr – what?" asked Hermione, bewildered, but after a second her face relaxed into an expression of solemn understanding.

"Of course." She said quietly. "Do you want me to come?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. While he felt like recovering Snape's body was a job he ought to do alone, he also felt an inexplicable need for comfort and companionship from his best friend. As with the past seven years, especially the past year, she would take on this final task with him. "Yes."

The pair shifted directions, moving through the castle at a much quicker and more purposeful pace. As they moved toward the Great Hall and more people stopped them, verbally expressing gratitude or embracing both in tight hugs, Harry, though appreciative, became exponentially more exhausted. He motioned for Hermione to follow him into a small nook and threw the Invisibility Cloak over them. "Just like old times," Hermione whispered wistfully, taking care to bend down.

As they passed the Great Hall, Harry saw a sea of red hair huddled together. One redhead broke away from the group, walking to a nearby stretcher on which Tonks rested, and Harry's heart clenched painfully as he watched Mrs. Weasley embrace Andromeda Tonks, both mothers sobbing uncontrollably in each other's arms.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione whispered gently, her own eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Harry tore his gaze away and followed her outside to the lawn.

More bodies lay sprawled out on the Hogwarts grounds, Healers and Mediwitches expertly and swiftly moving between them and conjuring stretchers. As they seemed to be moving from the inside outwards, Harry doubted that they had reached Snape's body yet. Trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest lay severed and destroyed, giving the appearance of the remnants of a hurricane. Centaurs moved quietly about them, picking up the wreckage and talking amongst themselves.

Harry and Hermione strode forward, the cloak flapping at their ankles in a light breeze. As the Shrieking Shack came into view, Harry was oddly reminded of the night in his third year when Sirius revealed the truth about Peter Pettigrew. He bit back a small smile as he pictured Sirius, shrunken from his Azkaban days but still adventurous and reckless, carelessly levitating an unconscious Snape while Lupin, Hermione, Ron, and recently transformed Peter had followed behind. What an odd sight they had all made. Harry felt a small blow to his stomach as he realized that four of the seven people there that night were now dead.

As he and Hermione moved further along the grounds in the bright heat, Harry finally allowed himself to ruminate on the memories he had seen in the Pensieve. Truthfully, he had been shocked. After Dumbledore's death there had been no question in Harry's mind about Snape's loyalties; he had not even thought to question the act, not even considered the possibility that it was anything but cold blooded murder. He had ignored Dumbledore's unwavering support of Snape, the numerous times the man had saved him from death, never questioned why the memory he had seen in his fifth year had engendered_ such_ vehemence from Snape…

Heavy guilt seeped into his senses as he remembered the last conversation he had had with Snape. It had been on these very grounds, the night of Dumbledore's death, when Harry had genuinely hated the man as much as he hated Voldemort himself. _Coward_, he had called him. He had never wondered why that label sparked such rage, remembering the anguished and terrorized face Snape had had at the word. And Snape had just been forced to kill the one of the few people that, assumedly, had ever believed in him. Harry closed his eyes. The last thing he had called the man who dedicated his life to protecting him, probably the bravest man he ever knew – a coward. Twice.

Harry saw how angry Snape became at Dumbledore's Machiavellian ways, on his behalf; how he declared regretfully that he had only watched those die whom he could not save; and how he risked blowing his cover to protect Lupin. Perhaps his path for Dumbledore had begun out of a desire to do what Lily would have wanted him to do, but Harry knew that Snape had been a good man. A good man with a biting and cold disposition, positively cruel at times, but still – a good man.

And Harry had watched this man, this man to whom he owed his life and success, die before his eyes without even trying to save him. He had just stared as the snake venom slowly killed the man who he so had so hated.

As Harry replayed Snape's final words in his mind, he gasped quietly. When Snape had said _Look at me_, at the time Harry had just assumed he meant to look at the memories, to see Snape for what he truly was. But now Harry understood, as he remembered his green eyes meeting the black.

Snape had wanted the last thing he saw before he died to be the eyes of the woman he loved.

Harry turned away from Hermione as a lump formed in his throat, his eyes burning and blurring. Ever intuitive, Hermione squeezed his hand.

As they crept up the tunnel to the shack, Harry's heart began to drum unbearably fast. He knew what he would see when he reached the decrepit room, knew what to expect; but knowing what he did now, he was unsure of his reaction. Although Hermione had seen him at far worse, he still felt that breaking down and sobbing over Snape's dead body would be deeply embarrassing. His lips curled into a small smile as he imagined Snape's own reaction to such emotional behavior; probably a thoroughly disgusted expression and sneer, Harry decided.

They climbed through the trapdoor and pattered into the room. Sure enough, the room was exactly as it had been when they left it; thickly coated in dust and squalid as ever. Harry took a calm, steadying breath as he saw a black-clad figure in the corner. Hermione whimpered beside him, and now it was he who squeezed her hand.

As they advanced on the dead man and kneeled before him, Harry's chest became constricted with grief. Snape's neck and shoulders were covered with blood, which had trickled down his characteristic thick black robes. Harry took in his shrunken, practically emaciated figure; surely he had not been that thin when he last saw him. His formerly jet-black, greasy hair now had several strands of gray, and his cheeks looked hollow and sunken. Large purple circles underlined his glassy, unseeing eyes.

Harry's tears were falling freely now. Hermione clasped his hand, squeezing it reassuringly as she had at his parents' graves, though her own sobs were audible as well.

After a few minutes Harry spoke quietly, his voice thick and hoarse. "We should bring him back now."

As with Dobby, Harry did not want to use magic. He wanted to use his own arms to carry Snape, a small act to pay back a minute fraction of the gratitude and debt he owed the man. Hermione, understanding his aim immediately, nodded and stood up as Harry scooted, extending his arms to Snape's shoulders and legs. But as he bent down, he noticed two empty phials next to Snape's shoulder. Had those been there before?

"Herm – "

"Harry." Hermione's eyes were wide with amazement, but her voice was no longer clogged with tears. Harry followed her gaze to Snape's thin wrist, where a slow but steady heartbeat thumped.

"He's _alive_."


	2. Confusion

Severus Snape did not fear dying. He had suffered far worse emotional and physical pain during life, and predicted that death would bring the peace that he had so longed for. He had very little to live for, if anything, and consequently felt no fear or loss in leaving the living world.

As he saw Lily Potter's green eyes sparkling down at him in what he thought were his final breaths, he felt the long-held tension, stress, and anger leave his shoulders. He had given the boy his memories, had completed Dumbledore's final task, and assuming everything else went to plan, he would have died a success.

The boy.

Snape had been floored to see the boy emerge from the shadows after Nagini's attack, along with his two sidekicks. As he watched Potter approach his dying figure, he momentarily wondered if the boy might finish off the job himself, or worse, torture Snape more. After all, Snape had appeared to betray him in the cruelest way; killing his beloved mentor in cold blood, harming his family friend, and allying himself with the man who had killed the boy's parents.

But no. The boy simply bent down next to him, his expression not one of loathing or rage, but of conflicting emotions. Was that_ pity_ on his face? Although Snape still saw the messy black hair and pointed nose, he was a fool to consider this boy James Potter's carbon copy in this moment. James Potter would never have approached a dying man, a dying man whom he truly hated (for good reason), with compassion and sadness on his face.

The behavior was pure Lily.

And in that instant, as Snape saw the fact that he had so studiously ignored over the past seven years: Harry Potter was as much Lily's son as he was James's. And as he saw those painfully familiar green eyes staring down at him, their expression accusing but sympathetic, Snape felt his hatred and loathing dissipate.

He wanted forgiveness.

Originally when he saw the boy he had planned to give him the one memory of Dumbledore saying that he must die. That was all Potter needed to know, right? Perhaps he could somehow cloud out the angry protests he himself had made at the old man…that would probably confuse the boy…

But no. He did not want to die detested and forgotten, another reviled Death Eater whose only life accomplishments were killing and maiming. He wanted to know that his difficult, miserable, stressful existence had been worth living, and worth praise. He knew he would be long gone by the time Potter saw the memories, but he wanted him to understand.

He thought of Lily, and the Marauders, and Dumbledore and George Weasley and the silver doe, and the overflowing silver memories escaped from his eyes and ears. At his command the boy looked around wildly, but the Granger girl – she always was the most intelligent of the three, not that there was much competition, Snape thought – quickly gave him a vial and he collected the memories. Snape inwardly nodded in satisfaction as he felt life leaving his body.

He tried to look at Lily's eyes again but now Potter was looking at the vial in confusion – ever _so_ daft – and at the painful wound in his neck. As Snape spoke his last words, the boy finally looked at him, and he saw those unforgettable eyes, a stunning green, that held so much meaning for the path of his life…

And then the world went black.

Snape felt vaguely conscious. How much time had passed? Was there such a thing as time when you died? And why did he still feel pain in his neck?

Snape inwardly groaned. So you could still feel pain in death. Wonderful.

Suddenly aware that his eyes were already open, Snape focused on his surroundings, expecting to see the red, fiery depths of hell. Instead he saw the Shrieking Shack, exactly as it had been before he died – had he died? What was going on? – but Potter and his two cronies were gone.

After a few moments of inaction Snape gingerly lifted his hand to the snake bites on his neck. Instead of touching deep puncture wounds and sticky venom, he simply felt dried blood over a few small crevices. The pain was still there, was still extremely harsh, but the skin had been healed.

It was then that he saw a solitary crimson feather near his feet. _Fawkes_.

Snape supposed he should feel relief; he hadn't died. But as he had stared into Lily's eyes for one last time, he had accepted death, even embraced it; there was nothing left for him in the living world. Especially if Harry Potter did die, and the Dark Lord was not defeated…he could not continue to feign servitude and admiration, to follow the Death Eaters on their barbaric and inhumane quests for power and control…

Snape sighed. Eventually, someone would find him here. Potter and the other two knew about his whereabouts…so did Lucius, Snape thought angrily. He had likely not known that he was sending Snape to his death when he fetched the man for the Dark Lord, but all the same…

He suddenly remembered that he had a small array of emergency potions in a pocket of his robes. Gingerly lifting them, still in his half-slumped position, he deftly picked out an anti-venom potion and painkiller. Quickly swallowing both, he threw the empty phials on the ground and slipped back into unconsciousness, extreme exhaustion and pain overtaking him.

It seemed an eternity since he had last been conscious. Snape was vaguely aware that he was warm, and was no longer slumped against the hard, cold, unforgiving walls of the Shrieking Shack. His neck was no longer causing pain, though had the strange sensation of being pulled. He was not wearing his thick robes, but instead something softer and lighter. Though his eyes were now closed, he could perceive a bright light above him. Feeling mildly hopeful, he wondered if perhaps he had died after all…

Faintly opening his eyes, disappointment settled in his chest. He was in the hospital wing. And from the sounds of hushed voices, so were several other people.

His black eyes slowly, disdainfully, slid from the ceiling to the side of the bed. While he had expected to see Pomfrey, perhaps a Ministry official trying to take him to Azkaban, he did not expect to see Potter sitting in a chair next to him, staring at him intently though exhaustedly through his bright green eyes. Behind him were Granger, McGonagall, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, speaking quietly together.

As the black met the green, once again, Potter's eyes widened in surprise, not at all deterred by the likely deathly glare Snape was giving the boy.

"He's awake!" the insufferable boy said excitedly, though with a hint of trepidation. Snape stole a glance at the three behind him, and instead of the cold, hateful looks he had become accustomed to receiving during the past year, they looked back at him with kind smiles and watery eyes. McGonagall slowly sauntered over and – Snape could not believe the dratted woman's nerve – patted his hand. He tried to move his hand away, but in his incredibly exhausted and drained state, he found he did not have enough energy. McGonagall took this as positive reinforcement and instead chose to hold onto his hand and squeeze it. _Oh, Merlin_. _Kill me now_.

Snape decided that if the snake venom failed to kill him, this kindness and mollycoddling would surely finish off the job.


	3. Gratitude

Harry stared at his newly awake professor and felt trepidation and discomfort seep into his senses. When Snape had been unconscious, it was easy to see him as the brave, valiant, selfless man in the memories; the one who had loved his mother, who had protected Harry, who had nearly died fighting the man he supposedly served. But now seeing him awake, though he still had that perception, it was slowly retreating. Harry had forgotten how cold and hateful those black eyes could look, especially when directed at him.

He, Hermione, and Kingsley watched on as McGonagall approached Snape and squeezed his hand. Harry had to stop a small snort from escaping his lips as he saw Snape's eyes widen and strain at the undesired contact.

"Severus," McGonagall said, her voice wobbly and her eyes sparkling with tears, "How can I ever apologize to you. I am so, so sorry."

Snape appeared alarmed at his coworker's proclamation. He continued to stare on impassively, but gave a small nod in response, clearly wanting to halt her emotional monologue. Since she was looking at the ceiling trying to compose herself, McGonagall missed this action.

"I just…never imagined…a _planned_ death….should have trusted Dumbledore…" she prated on, still touching Snape's hand. From its nearly undetectable twitching, Harry imagined Snape would have withdrawn his hand immediately if he had not been so weak.

"And you! When Potter told You – told V-Voldemort," she winced at the name but seemed to draw strength from her ability to say it, "about his mother, about Lily, and you, it all made sense. You two were the best of friends, after all, I can clearly remember, until the later end of your school years…" McGonagall continued rambling but Snape's black, fathomless eyes had found Harry's, fixing him with a look that could kill. He looked livid.

"Uh, Professor," Harry addressed McGonagall, who was now letting her tears freefall onto Snape's blankets, "could you – could you give me and Sn- Professor Snape a few moments?" He looked behind him at Hermione and Kingsley, who were watching the scene with compassion and a hint of amusement. "You two as well? Please?"

Hermione and Kingsley nodded. Hermione squeezed Harry's shoulder and whispered, "We'll just be outside." McGonagall looked up at Harry, momentarily confused, and then understood. Giving a final squeeze to Snape's hand, she patted it again and with a nod to Harry, followed the two others outside the Infirmary doors.

Harry slowly turned back to face his professor, his face a mixture of unease and determination. Snape's mouth was open as he tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled rasp. His eyes looked momentarily alarmed and he tried unsuccessfully to raise a hand to his throat.

"No, don't do that." Harry said. Snape glared at him fiercely. "Your vocal cords were somewhat harmed from Nagini's attack. They will eventually heal, but at least for the next few days, you won't be able to speak. And attempting to do so will only slow your recovery." He fixed his old professor with a stern gaze, his lips twisting a little at the irony.

Snape continued to stare at him impassively, but the alarm in his eyes seemed slightly placated, meaning he understood. He raised his eyebrows in question, but Harry knew it was not about his voice.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to draw strength from the fact that Snape could not interrupt or belittle him during his explanation. "Okay." He started. "So, uh, Professor McGonagall…alluded to…something I said during my final battle with Voldemort. We won, by the way! I killed him!"

Harry couldn't help but smile broadly, though the motion felt strange on his facial muscles, after the year he had had. Snape did not look impressed and gave him a cold look that clearly said, _I assumed so_. But Harry did not miss the small gleam of satisfaction that passed through the black eyes at the confirmation.

"So, during this, uh, final battle…Voldemort and I were kind of talking. About a lot of stuff. He started to mention Dumbledore, and his death, and I had just seen the memories, and…I wanted him to know the truth about you. And the crowd around us, I wanted them to know too, but I would have made it known to them later, of course…" Snape looked at him pointedly, though something else unreadable momentarily flashed in his stony expression. Could it have been gratitude?

"Anyway. I just said that he did not bring about Dumbledore's death like he thought. I told him that it was planned between you two…and then consequently, I had to explain, uh, your whole…betrayal." Harry finished lamely. He took a deep breath, and picturing Snape's agonized face at his mother's death, continued. "I told him that you were Dumbledore's the minute he started hunting down my mum. Because of the one thing he couldn't understand…love."

Harry was unprepared for the intense pain that flashed through Snape's expression momentarily. He looked at he had in the Pensieve, when his plan to save Lily had failed, and when Harry had called him a coward. The expression quickly passed, but it softened Harry's voice slightly.

"He didn't understand, even as I was telling him. But he was shocked. He told me that you merely…_desired_…my mother," Harry and Snape both wore expressions of disgust and anger at this, "and that you agreed there were other women, worthier, of purer blood. But I told him you had been Dumbledore's spy from the moment he started hunting her down because you loved my mother nearly all your life, from the time you were children."

Snape continued to stare at him, expressionless. Harry took this as a cue to continue.

"I know you're probably angry that I told the world your secret" Snape's eyes widened as if to say, _You think?_ "but at that point I still thought you were dead, and I was planning on telling everyone anyway so it didn't seem to matter…" Harry pictured Voldemort's sneering face. "And I wanted him to know before he died. He killed people without a second glance or thought, and never understood the repercussions of his actions…the unimaginable pain, grief, loss, guilt. I wanted him to know that killing my mother affected you so significantly that you defected from the Dark side. The strength of that love…of love, in general…is infinitely more powerful than anything he ever had."

Snape's face still looked stony and impassive, but the pain and regret were evident in his eyes. Harry resisted the urge to pat his professor's hand as McGonagall had and continued.

"I also told him for another reason. On your behalf, I felt…I don't know, satisfaction, maybe pride, from seeing the shock on his face. As you once said, he was the greatest Legilimens the world had ever seen. You must have been incredibly talented at Occlumency and several other things to be the spy that you were. I wanted him to know that he had underestimated you, in your immense capabilities and powers, that you could deceive someone as powerful as him."

Satisfaction gleamed in Snape's eyes, unmistakable this time, though brief. He opened his mouth again but no sound came out. Harry softened his voice even more, leaning slightly towards his professor.

"Voldemort died with the knowledge that you deceived him and played a leading role in his defeat. Retribution, perhaps, for he thoughtlessly killed you." Harry's tone became hard and bitter at the memory. "Regardless, I want to say that…I too realize that you played a leading role in Voldemort's defeat. Probably a bigger role than I did." He said seriously. Snape raised his eyebrows slightly, but Harry couldn't tell if it was in disagreement or acquiescence. "And I know what you did wasn't for me, exactly. But I will never be able to thank you or express my gratitude for all you did…the danger, the risk, the agony it must have been to pretend to serve and admire such a…_monster_." Harry spat out the last word. "But, uh…thank you." He said sincerely, staring at Snape's black eyes. His face remained unreadable but his eyes had lost their angry and stony glare.

"Okay." Harry stood up. "I'll tell the others to come back in. They have some stuff to fill you in on." Harry again resisted the urge to pat Snape's hand. He instead walked as close as possible to the bed and looked down. "And thanks for listening. I know you couldn't have…uh…really interrupted me or done anything, but you didn't totally shut me down!"

Snape looked him distastefully, perhaps regretting not "shutting down" the boy, but with a hint less malice than usual. Harry gave him a small smile and left the room.


	4. Information

After Minerva and Kingsley returned to update him on what had happened during and after the battle, Potter and Granger quietly left, mumbling something about the Weasleys. But Potter had turned around and said pointedly, "I will be back."

_Oh, how delightful. _

He listened to the witch and wizard describe the battle with feigned mild interest, but was actually captivated. It had not escaped his notice, after all, that Potter was alive and well and the Dark Lord was not, despite Dumbledore's previous proclamations that the boy had to die. And he was more than curious on the dispositions of his former colleagues, both Death Eaters and Order members alike.

His impassive mask remained intact as he listened to their discourse, but he did allow himself a small, raspy gasp when Minerva detailed how _Molly Weasley_ had killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Oh, yes," Minerva said, allowing herself a small smile. "That…woman…had been battling Ginny Weasley, and also Granger and Lovegood, I believe, and a killing curse narrowly missed Weasley's head. Molly went into maternal attack mode." Minerva chuckled. "Who knew that woman had it in her. I am still floored." Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise, with a hint of admiration. He had hated Bellatrix Lestrange nearly as much as he detested the Dark Lord himself.

She continued to describe the battle, delineating how everyone had momentarily believed the boy dead – Snape assumed that had something to do with Dumbledore's prediction – but then he had taken off his dratted Invisibility Cloak, revealing himself, to protect Molly Weasley. _Typical Potter and his melodramatic entrances_, huffed Snape internally.

But he listened with rapt attention when she described the final conversation between the Dark Lord and Potter. "He absolved you, Severus. Right in front of everyone. Told everyone about you and Lily, and your change of heart. The shock on his face was brief, but very gratifying." She paused, her gray eyes boring into his. "I still don't know how you managed to do it, Severus. To go to that…monster…and pretend to serve him, after what he did to Lily..." Her lips upturned into a small smile. "I always knew you were the most talented professor at the school, loath as I was to admit it. Besides Albus, of course. But despite being decades, even centuries, younger than the lot of us, you were always the most skilled. And to defy someone like Voldemort…clearly required unbelievable skill and bravery." She cleared her throat. "This is something I should have realized before."

Snape merely nodded back in acknowledgement. Although he would never admit it, his colleague's words touched him. She had been one of the few professors in the school whom he could tolerate, and despite the old Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry between them, he had always had slight admiration for her. Like him, she was a no-nonsense but effective teacher, and she had always treated him fairly when he was a student himself.

She continued to fill the gaps in his knowledge with Kingsley making additional remarks and explanations. He was surprised to hear that Lucius and Narcissa were currently being held at the Ministry, though he doubted they would ever go to Azkaban. Minerva had explained some confusing instance in which Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord about Potter being alive, and although it was clearly for selfish purposes, he knew they would use this small act of mercy to manipulate and weasel their way out of a lifelong prison sentence. As for the other remaining Death Eaters, he was gratified to learn that the majority had been captured. As for those who had escaped, Kingsley assured him that they would be caught in a timely manner.

Snape took all this in and thought of something horrifying. His eyes widening in alarm, he tried to catch the attention of Kingsley, who was now looking at his watch and moving to stand up. He cleared his throat raspily and the new Minister looked at him. Snape tried to raise a finger but found that he was still too weak. However, he managed to rasp out a quiet, "Me?"

Minerva and Kingsley looked confused and then wore matching looks of dawning comprehension. Minerva shook her head quickly, looking at Kingsley for confirmation. "He isn't being tried, right?"

The new minister shook his head, addressing Snape. "You will face no persecution. Though you partook in Death Eater activities, your participation in the Order and instrumental role in bringing down Voldemort clearly outweigh that. I have told the Ministry that you are absolved, but if the need arises, we can use the memories you gave Potter. Or Veritaserum." Snape nodded, relief evident on his face, and Kingsley, thankfully, forwent patting his hand and instead raised his own in farewell to Minerva and Snape. "Goodbye, Severus and Minerva. I have much to attend to, but I'm sure I will be back soon. For the funeral, of course." He nodded once more and swept outside.

Like Minerva, Kingsley had been one the few Order members Snape could tolerate. He appreciated his cool, calm demeanor, and though the man was brave, he was never foolhardy or impulsive like his other Gryffindor counterparts. He figured he would make a decent Minister.

But what was "the funeral" he spoke of? Snape knew many had died, but couldn't there be separate funerals for all of them? He raised his eyebrows at Minerva in question.

"There is going to be a funeral." She stated unnecessarily. "For everyone who died. Those who died fighting Voldemort, obviously, none for the Death Eaters. In the next few days." She looked outside, sadness clouding her features. "Many innocent lives were lost, Severus."

Snape stared at her. "List," he rasped.

"What?" she looked back at him, focusing. "Oh," she said softly. She raised her wand and official-looking parchment came whizzing into the room. "Here," she said, trying to give it to Snape. Seeing he could not lift his hand, her expression softened and she held it before him. He hated being treated like a child, but wanted to see who had died.

His eyes quickly scanned the names, willing himself to not feel any emotion. But unexpectedly, many younger students had lost their lives. He was about to turn to Minerva, anger in his eyes, to ask her why she had not tried harder to protect them, but then realized it had been his responsibility. He closed his eyes briefly. He had failed Dumbledore's order.

But he did feel a small, minute blow to his stomach when he saw two names far down the list. Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. His eyes stopped scanning.

Minerva was watching him, staring at the names that had finally broken his emotionless expression, for however brief a moment. "Oh, yes," she whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "They just had a son, did you know? Teddy." She blinked furiously, trying to control herself. "Another orphan now, like Potter. But he has Andromeda, I suppose…and Potter is his godfather, did you know?"

Snape sneered at the thought of Potter coddling a small werewolf with fur in changing colors.

"Severus." Minerva said. "I know that you saved Lupin's life. However you act like you hated him, and Nymphadora…I know you didn't."

Snape pursed his lips. That had been incredibly foolish, risking his cover like that to protect Lupin. Even now, he wasn't quite sure why he had done it.

But deep down, he knew why. Lupin had done nothing to stop Potter and Black from tormenting him during school, playing the role of unsupportive but spineless bystander that Snape so hated, but he had never taken part in the bullying. He had never even laughed, and there was always something like regret and pity on his face as he had watched Snape suffer. Of course, Snape hadn't realized that he didn't hate the man until a few years ago when Lupin had formally apologized to him. He had brushed off the apology coldly and harshly, but he had not forgotten it. But in the end, Lupin had still died, just a few months later. And Snape had ended up maiming one of the Weasley boys instead.

In perfect timing that only Potter could orchestrate, the Boy Who Lived Again came striding back into the Infirmary with Granger, the youngest Weasley boy, and one of the Weasley twins, conspicuously missing an ear. Snape briefly remembered seeing Fred Weasley's name on the list of the dead.

As the quartet drew nearer, Snape was surprised by the array of emotions on their faces. Potter appeared exhausted and upset, but there was unmistakable relief on his face. Granger looked similar, but with a touch more sadness. Snape noticed she was tightly gripping the youngest Weasley's hand and that he was looking at her with admiration and affection.

Snape inwardly smirked at that. He had known those two would end up together since their fourth year when he – to his immense displeasure – had continuously been unable to avoid hearing their loud arguments, laced with sexual tension, throughout Potions class.

But the momentary amusement disappeared at he observed Weasley's melancholy, defeated face. Only a small hint of relief brightened his features. But the older Weasley looked positively anguished, his face haunted and twisted with grief.

Snape felt a small emotion in his stomach that could only be sympathy. Despite what others thought, he was not a heartless man. Although he had hated the insufferable Weasley twins, he did not wish the pain of losing a loved one on anyone. It was a pain worse than the Cruciatus…as he would know.

"Professor." Harry stated, looking at Snape carefully and silently willing him to be cordial. "George wanted to say something to you."

The Weasley twin looked up distractedly, as if only then remembering where he was. His voice was monotone and lifeless as he spoke, but he looked intensely at Snape's eyes. "Harry told us that you didn't mean to curse my ear off. You were trying to save Remus. And that you made a point of putting that in the memories you gave him." He paused, momentarily looking to the side as if to see his twin, and then stared back at Snape. "I know what those Death - what those monsters were and what they did. And you weren't one of them, not by a long shot. And although I know it was an accident, I want to say I forgive you for my ear." Earnestness briefly lightened his features until he returned to his lifeless look.

All eyes were trained on Snape. He could easily retain his impassive mask, ignoring the boy's foolish forgiveness, especially when he had not apologized and had no intention of doing so. But the haunted pain in the boy's eyes reminded him too much of himself. Before he could stop himself, he nodded slightly and cocked his head in acknowledgement. This seemed to satisfy the boy and he turned back to his brother. Potter was giving him a strange look. Was that _gratitude_ he saw?

"Okay. Well, Harry, Hermione, we're going to go back." The youngest Weasley said, turning his gaze from Snape to his friends. "We're all going back to the Burrow tonight. But I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

Granger nodded, squeezing his hand and resting a hand on the older Weasley's shoulder. Snape didn't think the touch even registered.

"I'll walk you lot downstairs. I need to see your parents." Minerva said softly. "Granger, Potter, what are your plans?"

"I'm going to Australia to find my parents. I Obliviated them to protect them from Voldemort…I'm going to find them and return their memories. I'll be back in a few days for the funeral." Granger said.

"I'm going to stay here, at least until the funeral." Harry said. Snape inwardly groaned. He turned to Snape, his face inscrutable. "I'm going to go take a nap, but I'll be back later, okay, Professor?"

Snape did not respond but continued to stare at him impassively. Taking this as acceptance – which it was not – Potter nodded and followed Minerva and his friends outside the Infirmary.

_Why must Potter continue to return_? he wondered to himself, exasperated, as Poppy came over and checked his wounds, pouring more foul potions down his throat. _Is he trying to annoy me? Does he want to talk about his mother? _

The last one made him wince. He would certainly not discuss Lily with _Potter_, of all people. The idea was practically laughable, he mused as he fell into a peaceful sleep. Absolutely ludicrous.


	5. Wish

As Harry was dreading the funeral, the next few days predictably flew by unceremoniously. He was far from done grieving, and each day brought a new pain; meeting Colin Creevey's anguished but kind parents, seeing his godson for the first time, still a baby and unaware that he was now an orphan, and the dozens of other families and friends that gave a name and life to those who had died fighting.

Despite the constant outpouring of gratitude and appreciation that surrounded him – Harry had taken to wearing the Invisibility Cloak occasionally just to avoid being smothered with hugs – he was feeling slightly lonely. Ron and Ginny had gone back to the Burrow with their family to grieve, and though Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had welcomed him to come, Harry felt that they needed to deal with the loss of Fred privately. Hermione was off in Australia returning her parents memories, and according to the excited letter she had sent Harry, the reunion seemed to be going smoothly. Even Luna had left Hogwarts, to reunite with her father after his release from Azkaban. Neville was the sole one that remained at Hogwarts, but he spent most time at his gran's bedside; she had been greatly injured in the battle.

Harry knew it was silly and selfish to feel lonely, but he had always relied on his friends a great deal, especially Ron and Hermione. Being without them now, even for a few days, was supremely difficult, and it wasn't until then that Harry realized how essential their unwavering support and friendship had been in the past seven years.

Seeking companionship, Harry ironically turned to Snape. Although the man was as rude, caustic, and cold as ever, Harry found that he appreciated his demeanor more compared to the constant obsequiousness and excessive gratitude of nearly all around him. However, despite his numerous, whole-hearted attempts to get through to the man, Snape was a tough egg to crack. He also seemed to be asleep more and more frequently when Harry came, and though he knew the man was a superb deceiver, he could tell it was an act.

Just now Snape was sitting up in bed, reading a thick, boring-looking book about spell theory. He had gained considerable strength since his attack, although his upper shoulder and neck area were still covered in thick bandages. He was wearing thick-framed, rectangular reading glasses now, as some of the medicine he had been taken was having counteractive effects on his vision. Harry, sitting somewhat nearby on a chair, stole a quick glance at him and was struck by how…human Snape looked. Wearing a hospital gown, reading glasses, and sitting in a hospital bed under blankets, he looked a far cry from the formidable professor Harry had known.

Sensing his gaze, Snape turned to look at Harry sharply. Even through the glasses, Harry could still see the coal-black eyes clearly. "Do you want something, Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry said, turning back to his own book on Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had figured, despite Voldemort's death, it never hurt to know more defense spells, especially if he still wanted to be an Auror.

Snape turned back to his book as well, but after a moment, turned his face back up, sneering slightly. "Why are you here, Potter?"

"What?"

"I thought my question was reasonably straightforward. Apparently, some minds cannot grapple with simple concepts." His sneer became more defined. "I asked, why are you here? Why do you come nearly every day to sit in that chair, asking me inane questions, bothering me with your prattle? Why not go and revel in the insane amount of attention you are inevitably receiving?"

Harry put down his book and stared defiantly at Snape. Although the man's expression was cold and condescending, there was a hint of genuine curiosity and confusion behind his features.

"First of all, I don't _want_ the attention I'm receiving, as I've been trying to show you for the past seven years!" Harry said, annoyed. "I appreciate the gratitude people have shown me, but I am not desperately seeking it. I do not enjoy being a – what did you used to call me? – a celebrity."

"Celebrity, indeed. As humble and _modest_ as your words sound Potter, I have a hard time believing you don't enjoy the attention. Just yesterday, if my memory serves me correctly, you signed an _autograph_ in this very room." Snape raised his eyebrows condescendingly.

"That was because she asked me too," Harry said hotly, "she was a little girl whose mum was injured in the battle! What did you expect me to do? Say no? We do not all find it so easy to be as rude and unkind as you."

Snape's gaze hardened and despite its rasp, his voice still sounded silkily dangerous. "Watch yourself, Potter. Just because I am no longer your Professor does not mean you can speak to me with such blatant disrespect." He shot a contemptuous glance at Harry and returned to his book.

"Wait." Harry said loudly. Snape glanced up and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Let me answer your question. The reason I come here every day," Harry hesitated momentarily, "is because…after reflecting on your memories, on the battle, on everything I saw…I realized something. You deserve, more than many people, to be…." Harry paused and spoke the word as though it did not match the man sitting before him. "…happy." He crossed his arms and prepared for vituperation.

Something like pain and surprise passed through Snape's closed expression momentarily, but then his face turned hard. "Happy?" he asked harshly. The word seemed twisted coming from him.

But Harry stared back. "Yes. You…deserve to be."

Snape suddenly spoke, as though he could not control himself. "Why?"

"Because…" Harry licked his lips. "Because you, it seems to me, have not been happy in quite some time. And that is mostly Voldemort's own doing, perhaps even Dumbledore's in a way…but it is obvious that you have lived a very difficult life, in constant stress and danger, and now…now you're free. Both of your masters are dead. You can…you can finally be happy."

Snape stared at Harry for a long time, his characteristic impassive expression closed off from any emotion. For a moment, Harry thought he was going to nod his head in agreement or even _thank_ him, but he was wrong on both accounts.

"So do you believe that _you_, Potter, are the key to my happiness?" Snape's lip curled.

Harry frowned. "No, and I never implied that I would be. I know that you hate me. But you have made significant sacrifices for me – I know it was for my mum, but still – and I feel it's my duty to see that those sacrifices are repaid." Harry cleared his throat. "And I really do believe that you deserve to be happy."

Snape's thin face flared with anger. "No, I don't." he muttered.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "Of course you do! You did more than anyone in the war, except maybe Dumbledore, and you never asked for thanks or – "

"Stop!" Snape hissed angrily. "Potter, despite your incredibly overinflated ego and perceived intelligence, you do _not_ have the right to tell me how to live my life. I am perfectly capable of doing so myself – "

"No, you're not!" yelled Harry. "You keep blaming yourself for something that happened seventeen years ago, an honest mistake, and I know my mum would have for – "

"_ENOUGH_!" Snape roared, his rasp making him seem more dangerous. "Potter…get out."

Harry stared at him in disbelief, a mixed feeling of hurt and pity seeping into the pit of his stomach. "No."

"_Potter_,_"_ said Snape venomously. "Get OUT now. And DON'T come back." He shot Harry a withering glance and picked up his book, aggressively flipping the pages, anger still etched on the harsh lines of his face.

Harry picked up his book and stomped out of the Infirmary, furious. He was just trying to help the wretched man, after all! He thought it was the least he could do. But _why_ did he have to be so resistant?

Harry sighed dramatically and sank down to his knees against the stone wall. He knew it was too early to give up on the man, but he sure wasn't making it easy. Would the man_ ever_ let his guard down?


	6. Funeral

Severus continued his stay in the Infirmary for the days leading up to the funeral, much to his great displeasure and chagrin. Although his neck was slowly healing, it was still incredibly painful and difficult to move. Not to mention that he had – temporarily, at least – lost his prized, silky voice. Now it sounded raspy and irritated, as though he were a heavy smoker. Severus wrinkled his nose at that thought, imagining his own father screaming at him in the same raspy voice, a cigarette always in his hand.

Severus hoped his voice would improve rapidly.

Potter had not returned since Severus had spurned him, at least to his knowledge. He supposed he should feel some measure of guilt for being so caustic, but he still didn't understand the boy's foolish need or desire to be with him. And that business about Severus being _happy_?

In reflection, Severus had never been truly happy. His years of friendship with Lily were probably the happiest years of his life, but even they had been tainted in their own ways, both by his father's domestic abuse and bullying at the hands of the Marauders. Perhaps the first few years of his life had been decent, before the abuse started in earnest and his parents had still loved each other, but Severus couldn't remember those. Certainly, he had never been happy again after Lily's death.

But this lack of happiness didn't bother Severus. It certainly had when he was younger; sometimes he wondered why people smiled so much, and he so little. He supposed it wasn't in his nature to laugh or express happiness, but he also knew it was because he just didn't have as many reasons to smile as most did. But now he knew, deep down, that after what he had done – not only indirectly killing Lily, but also participating in activities through the Dark Lord – he did not deserve happiness. He deserved the lonely, miserable existence that he had. Even now that he was "free" as Potter had put it, his guilt and shame were not assuaged. When Potter had had the nerve to bring up those sensitive topics, Severus had responded in the only way he knew how – lashing out.

Now, he was struggling to put on his robes. Minerva had come to him earlier in the morning to tell him about the funeral, asking him if he wanted to go. Originally he had responded in the negative, telling her he was too weak to go anywhere, but then a small voice in his head whispered _coward_. He knew that he had to go to the funeral, not to weep or mourn for the dead, but to face the shame and guilt that he felt for failing to protect all those innocent lives.

Too proud to accept Poppy's help, he now sat in the bed changing with great difficulty. He sighed loudly when it took his several minutes to maneuver his arm through a single sleeve. Severus hated weakness, especially when it could not be immediately remediated, and felt a new wave of hatred towards the Dark Lord for so carelessly trying to kill him.

Severus shook his head. He no longer had to refer to him as the Dark Lord. _Voldemort_.

After several agonizing minutes, he finally dressed and opened the curtains to see Minerva. She gingerly helped him to his feet and transfigured a nearby pillow into a long, black cane. Severus gratefully leaned on it, muttering his thanks, and trudged outside the Infirmary. Although he initially refused it, he eventually grasped Minerva's arm for additional support, cursing the damn snake again in his mind.

The funeral was held on the expansive Hogwarts grounds. Dozens of dead bodies, appearing to rest peacefully, lay out on small tables near Dumbledore's white tomb. Although most were adults, there were some children that could not have been over ten, Severus realized with a start. Their peaceful faces somehow fit in with the stunning beauty of the cloudless sky and flat lake behind.

Hundreds of chairs also sat in neatly arranged rows near the tombs, adorned with gold and black. A small, modest podium was placed at the front. Nearly all the chairs were filled, but the podium remained empty.

Severus attempted to move away from Minerva, trying to remain inconspicuous and sneak into one of the back rows, but she met his gaze and shook her head sharply. She reaffirmed her strong grip on his arm and led them down the aisle to the very front row.

As they walked, Severus was shocked to hear the gasps and murmurs of his own name. "Is that _Snape_?" "Oh my god, it's _Snape_!" "Look at his neck. The poor man!"

He kept his gaze straightforward and his expression impassive, still holding onto Minerva arm but trying to appear more dignified. After an excruciatingly long walk, they finally reached the first row. Severus was surprised to see that the first row's chairs were larger and grander than those of other rows, and the chair second from the aisle had his name on it. He collapsed into it as Minerva sat at his side, Filius on the other. The little man gave him a small smile and murmured his name in greeting.

The funeral passed by slowly. Minerva – who had been made the new Hogwarts headmistress, at Snape's suggestion and insistence – gave a long, heartfelt speech which was followed by small eulogies for each of the fallen. Severus saw a tall, sandy-haired man with a mild face, who could only be Lupin's father, embracing Nymphadora's mother, Andromeda, after giving his son's eulogy. Severus had momentarily started when he first saw the woman – her resemblance to Bellatrix was striking – but relaxed when he saw her smile. Bellatrix had never smiled kindly like that before.

Severus briefly wondered who would have given his eulogy had he died. If he would have been counted amongst these heroes, or if his body would have been uncelebrated like Bellatrix's. He wondered if anyone would have shed a tear.

None of the eulogies quite affected Severus – grief and death were certainly not new to him, after all – until George Weasley's. The boy was so anguished that he could not continue on until the youngest Weasley boy went up to the podium and squeezed his shoulder, fighting back tears himself. He seemed to gain momentary composure and spoke of his brother thickly, his voice hoarse and thick, until the end. He completely broke down, falling to his knees, and then it took two more of his brothers to come on the podium and help him, tears streaming down their own faces. George Weasley's face was soon obscured by his brothers' arms, but the raw agony and immense pain in his expression were clear. Severus could feel Minerva shaking with sobs next to him, and was surprised to feel his own eyes prickle momentarily, almost as if with tears.

After the eulogies Minerva got up again to make a short closing speech, followed by a brief one by Kingsley. Severus felt completely exhausted, even though he had not moved the entire funeral, and was ready to return to bed and forget all the pain he had witnessed. He was thankful it was almost over.

But alas, as he turned his eyes up to the podium, he saw Potter standing there, his eyes red-rimmed from crying and twisting his hands nervously. Severus raised his eyebrows at Minerva and she quietly explained that he had requested to speak at the end of the funeral, before the tables were turned into tombs. Severus saw Harry glance into the throng of people where he knew the boy's infernal friends were sitting, and the boy, seeming to draw strength from their response, cleared his throat and stood up straight.

"Hello," Potter said. "There are a few things I would like to say before we conclude…"

The boy prated on – incoherently at times, Severus thought – about his endless gratitude for all those who died for him, specifically naming Lupin, Nymphadora, and George Weasley. He described the journey he had been on for the last year, briefly explaining the Horcruxes and the prophecy, and the Elder Wand. He included Severus in the explanation, but briefly.

The boy appeared to be done, and Severus breathed with relief, sitting up and preparing to leave momentarily. He was about to fall asleep sitting in that chair, and he did not want to further bruise his ego by collapsing in front of all these people.

"There is one last thing I would like to say." Potter said pointedly, drawing himself up to full height. A classic James Potter stance, Severus thought. "There is an infinite number of people whom I would like to thank, and though many of them have passed away, some are still here, fortunately. There are three people here today without whom I would not be standing here right now, and without whom Voldemort would likely still be alive and reigning in terror. The first two are the two who have been with me from my first term at Hogwarts." Potter's eyes took on a blazed, teary look as he stared into the audience at Granger and Weasley. "Ron and Hermione, I will never be able to thank you for taking the journey with me to hunt down Horcruxes. Without your bravery, and brilliance, and endless loyalty, I would not be here…I cannot describe how lucky I was and am to have you two as my best friends." Potter cleared his throat, eyes scanning the crowd. Severus felt slight curiosity at who this third person might be; Minerva? Longbottom? Or perhaps, Severus thought with faint amusement, that psychotic girl Luna Lovegood.

"The third person is Severus Snape."

_Oh, Merlin, Potter_. Minerva gave him a small sideways smile. He scowled pronouncedly.

"Many of you know that I briefly alluded to…Professor Snape's loyalties in my final battle with Hogwarts, and cleared his name with the Ministry. But I have never publicly thanked him." Potter cleared his throat again, now looking right at Severus. Severus tried to make his expression angry, but found he had too little energy. Damn snake.

"There are all kinds of powers in the wizarding world. There is the power of intelligence, as Hermione possesses…the power of humor and laughter, as Ron knows. Then there are the powers were learn at school – the power of a potent potion, the power of a spells, the power of a strong and gifted wizard or witch. But all of these powers pale, incredibly, in comparison with the ultimate power: that of love." Severus inwardly snorted. The boy sounded like a more maudlin version of Dumbledore.

"The prophecy that Voldemort heard said that I would have a power that he knew not. For years I wondered if I had some magical, special power that was yet undiscovered by him, and I figured that would be my best bet. Yet it soon became apparent that I was merely a teenage boy, and Voldemort was a fully grown and disturbingly intelligent wizard. But as I grew older, I began to believe the words Professor Dumbledore had told me – that my weapon was not complex, or remarkable, or even tangible; it was the power of love. Something Voldemort had never, and could never, understand." Potter continued to stare straight at Severus. Infernal boy.

"I thought that only _my _ability to love would save me. But I was wrong; Professor Snape's ability to love is what has protected me all these years. It takes incredibly bravery to face Voldemort, day after day, knowing that you are defying him, and the power of his love for my mum is what gave Professor Snape this strength. It is exactly the kind of thing Dumbledore always preached. Perhaps I should have listened to him a bit more." The boy gave a small smile. "So, Professor Snape, you have my endless gratitude. You are perhaps a bigger hero in this war than I am."

All eyes were on Severus. He could hear some of them sniffling loudly, trying to stop tears. Why were people crying about _him_? But he could see they were expecting some sort of reaction. He normally would not have responded at all, had Minerva not been next to him, heeding with her eyes. It was like Dumbledore all over again; Severus felt a need to obey her orders, even unspoken ones.

He turned his face back to Potter and nodded slowly, his eyes widening slightly in acknowledgement. Potter smiled briefly in return and then, along with Minerva and Kingsley, ignited the bodies until they were all encased in small white tombs. They were not as grand as Dumbledore's, but Severus supposed they were still decent. An enchanted orchestra played a depressing melody in the background.

People began to get up slowly, wiping their eyes, and chatting amongst themselves. Minerva quickly went up to hug some of the family members of the dead, leaving Severus at his seat.

Well, he certainly wasn't about to ask anyone for help except Minerva. And he wasn't foolish enough to get up, knowing he would collapse and dozens would rush to his aid; he truly hated mollycoddling. He sighed dramatically, remaining in his seat. Minerva had better finish speaking soon.

He stared at the wide array of tombs until he felt a tentative tap on his shoulder. "Professor?" a quiet voice asked. Severus turned slightly to see that Granger had taken Minerva's seat. "May I sit down?"

Severus stared. Why did she want to sit next to him? But he nodded slightly, casting her an indifferent glance and returning his gaze to the tombs.

"Professor," Granger said quietly, "erm…Ron and I would like to thank you as well. For everything you did. It can't have been easy, and what you did…was beautiful." She sighed, contemplatively looking at the lake. "I always told Harry that he was too hard on you. It turns out we all were." She cast him a sideways glance, looking remarkably like Minerva. "But there is something I would like to…erm…suggest."

Snape spared a brief glance at her, eyebrows raised. A suggestion for him?

"More of a remark, really," she said hastily. "Harry told me that you two had gotten in a bit of a...squabble. And I understand that you must be feeling a wide myriad of emotions right now. But Harry…Harry has so much to offer, so much good inside him. I think you two would be…beneficial for each other. It wouldn't hurt to talk to him. From what he's told me of the memories…he's a lot like his mother. Possibly even more forgiving." Granger gave him a small, knowing smile and stood up. She reached out her hand as if to pat his shoulder but, thinking better, quickly retracted it and walked away.

Severus stared after her. A _relationship_ with _Potter_? She must be barking mad.


	7. Return

Harry knew he was being stupid. Snape had clearly said he didn't want to see him, but Harry couldn't simply not speak to the man ever again. Although he likely wouldn't come back to Hogwarts to finish his seventh year, he did not want to break contact with Snape forever. It seemed wrong.

Harry's mum had seen something in Snape, something that made him someone worthy to befriend and love. He had seen the way Lily looked at Snape in those memories; with great respect and affection. Harry could see the anguish and pain on her face when she ended her friendship with Snape, and Harry inadvertently thought of all the fights he had had with Ron and Hermione.

Thus, Harry made his way back up to the Infirmary in the afternoon, a few days after the funeral. He had spent a quiet morning with Ginny; it had been lovely to see her again, to be able to talk with her, alone, without her brothers around, however well-meaning they were. However, Fred's loss hung heavy between them. Harry could see in Ginny's eyes and behavior that it would be a while before she recovered.

She told him that she and her family were going on a two-week long trip to Australia for some long-sought togetherness and healing time. Oddly enough, their destination had been Hermione's parents' recommendation; although they were blissful to be reunited with their daughter, they had raved about the people and culture of Australia.

Harry had nodded as she told him, and Ginny had seemed relieved by his reaction. He assured her that he completely understood and thought that some strictly-Weasley time would be incredibly beneficial for all involved. She muttered an apology for not inviting him but again he waved her off, assuring her that he had plenty to do and plenty of people with whom to spend time. It was only two weeks, after all; not much could happen in two weeks.

After he had bid farewell to her and the rest of the Weasleys – his ribs hurt from all the strong hugs he had received – he Owled Hermione asking if she was planning on returning to Hogwarts for a few days. She was at home with her parents, also catching up on some much-needed quality time.

Harry wished he had someone with whom he could spend that time. Someone who had cared where he had been all year.

Sighing, he pushed the door to the Infirmary open, dragging a large bag behind him, and scanned the beds for the signature jet-black hair. But he did not see Snape.

Panic immediately settled in his chest; his heart began to beat quickly. He thought Snape had been improving…the snake bites were nearly healed…he couldn't be…

Harry felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked sideways to see Madame Pomfrey smiling kindly at him. "Hello, Mr. Potter. I presume you're looking for Professor Snape?" He nodded quickly. "Well, his condition has improved enough that I have allowed him to return to his own quarters. With a house-elf, of course, to tend to his needs." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Madame Pomfrey glanced at the large bag, her brow furrowing, and said quietly, "I'm sure he would not be too bothered if you paid him a visit down there. You were very helpful while he was recovering, you know. You would make a decent Healer."

Harry nodded uncertainly. It hadn't been really intrusive to visit Snape in the hospital wing – it was open to everyone, and it hadn't ever been just the two of them in the room. But visiting Snape in his own space seemed much more personal and much more…deliberate. Knowing the man's feelings toward him, Harry felt rather disinclined to go to the dungeons and face him alone. He would probably hex him, Harry thought with faint amusement.

"You know," Madame Pomfrey said contemplatively, "I've always said that Severus would make a great Healer." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yes, yes, he would of course have to work on his bedside manner…but he's a natural at healing. A few times over the years, there has been a surplus of students in here, too many for me to care for, due to an epidemic or outbreak. I have always relied on Severus to come help me." She stared out the window. "Most people don't think the man has a caring bone in his body, but I've seen the way he treated sick students. Perhaps he wasn't as gentle or kind as myself, but he was very swift and thorough. Always calm in a crisis." Her smile turned to a sad frown. "And of course, I've seen Severus be on the other end of that too. Albus often brought him in here after particularly nasty Death Eater meetings, despite Severus's protests that he could handle it himself. Often dealing with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus, he was sometimes rendered senseless. For such a stoic, fearless, composed man…seeing him in that much pain broke my heart." She patted Harry's shoulder. "You should visit him."

Harry smiled tentatively back at her. "I will," he said and swept out the doors and down to the dungeons.

Harry had no idea where Snape lived. It was strange, even now, to imagine his old professor in anywhere domestic; he had always pictured him just living in his office, never sleeping. Snape had always seemed to be one of those superhuman types who didn't require food or sleep.

He supposed the man's quarters must be attached to his office, somehow. Although he had probably lived in Dumbledore's old quarters while he was headmaster, Harry knew that McGonagall, as newly instated headmistress, was now residing there. He had heard that she moved Snape's belongings back to his old office at his wish, as Slughorn had retired. And after years of miserable detentions, he certainly knew where his office was. So Harry made his way down to the dungeon, nostalgically thinking of his Hogwarts days and all the memories of Potions classes, and paused before the door. He took a deep breath and knocked.

He was surprised to hear immediate shuffling behind the door, before seeing it opened into Snape's empty office. Had he opened the door from another room? But as Harry spared a glance downward, he saw who had opened the door. "Kreacher!" he exclaimed.

"Harry Potter," the house-elf greeted. "Are you wishing to see Professor Snape? I am collecting books to bring him." Kreacher, indeed, had an armful of dark, old, tattered books from Snape's desk. Everything looked as his had the years Harry had spent serving detentions; he supposed McGonagall had gone to painstaking lengths to ensure everything was comfortable and familiar for Snape.

"Er, yes, I am," Harry said uncertainly.

"I will bring you to him, sir, he is sleeping. He didn't say anything about visitors because after he told Kreacher to get books, he fell asleep. Kreacher thinks he is still very tired and weak, sir." He glanced at Harry's big bag. "Would Harry Potter like Kreacher to take that, sir?"

"That's okay, Kreacher. I got it." Harry said. "So, er, where is Sn- Professor Snape?"

Kreacher hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. "In here, Harry Potter," the small elf walked over to a thin bookshelf and touched it delicately, causing it to quickly materialize into a solid wood door. Kreacher opened it and gestured for Harry to follow him up a long and winding staircase.

The staircase ended and opened into a surprisingly well-lit hallway. Two closed doors lined the hallway, which opened up into a combined living room and kitchen.

Harry was astonished at Snape's furniture choices. He had been expecting it to look like the Slytherin common room, but the colors were surprisingly warm. The hallway and room walls, Harry realized, weren't the usual stone walls of the dungeon, but instead normal clapboard, painted a soft green. The floor, similarly, was grey-stained wood. Large windows – Harry realized they must be above ground, due to the stairs – showed a view of the castle's expansive grounds and were framed by grey curtains. Large bookcases lined the living room walls, and a beige couch sat in front of a large fireplace. Two light blue, plush chairs were faced perpendicular to the couch, and a mahogany coffee table sat between them. The kitchen had chestnut cabinets and basic appliances, with a simple wooden table and set of three chairs around it.

Harry was startled to see, upon closer inspection, that Snape was lying asleep on the couch. Kreacher led him over, finger held to his lips, and deposited the books quietly on the coffee table.

Snape was wearing a gray t-shirt and soft, plaid blue pajama bottoms. Harry was surprised to see the man wearing Muggle clothing, but Harry knew he had grown up in a Muggle neighborhood. Perhaps he still followed some of the customs.

He looked emaciated under the sun's light; his ribs were still visible through the cotton of his shirt, and his arms, though surprisingly muscular, looked thin and weak. His color remained deathly pale as always. The thick bandages remained on his neck, obscuring the wounds. With a start, Harry recognized the Dark Mark as Snape shifted positions, its darkness contrasting with the pearly whiteness of Snape's skin. Although it had faded somewhat from black to grey, it still retained its ugly shape. Harry briefly wondered if Snape could or would have it removed.

Snape shifted again and Harry was struck by how young the professor looked. The lines of his face were softened by the peace of sleep, and he cocked his head towards his pillow like a child snuggling into a parent. Harry, after a moment's hesitation, quietly transfigured a pillow on one of the chairs into a wool blanket. He quickly settled it on Snape's shoulders, trying not to touch the man and subsequently wake him.

But the moment the fabric touched Snape's bare skin, the man's eyes flashed open and before he knew what was happening, Harry found himself immobile on the floor. Snape was standing over him looking terrifying, his wand held tightly in his hand and his face livid and furious.

"Potter!" he hissed, appearing to feel simultaneous relief and anger. The transfigured blanket lay at his feet. "_What are you doing here_?"

Harry was rather happy he was immobilized, and could not respond, because he figured anything he said would give reason for Snape to hex him. He widened his eyes, in what was really anger at Snape, but what he hoped the man perceived as an apology.

After a few tense moments Snape dramatically sighed and, with a lazy flick of his wand, muttered the countercurse and returned Harry to mobility. The boy scrambled to his feet, massaging the pain in his back where he had fallen, and stared defiantly at Snape.

"So?" Snape said impatiently, still looking furious. "Why are you in my own space, Potter? Trying to bother me on my personal time?"

"I was checking on you!" Harry said hotly. "Madame Pomfrey told me you had moved back down here and suggested I pay you a visit. Kreacher let me in – " Snape threw the house-elf a death glare, which caused him to shrink back a little – "so I didn't break in or anything!" Harry held his gaze. "I was trying to put a blanket on you."

Something quickly passed in Snape's impassive expression but after a moment it was gone. "I don't need you to babysit me, Potter." He growled, sneering. "I am perfectly capable of recovering on my own." As he said this, his legs trembled weakly. Before he could grip the couch to steady himself, Snape fell to his knees.

Without thinking, Harry rushed over and helped Snape back to the couch, despite the man's livid protests and deathly glares. He tried to push Harry away but his arms were far too weak, the touch barely even registering to Harry. He scowled as Harry resettled the wool blanket around him, quickly touching the man's arm to bring it up snugly around his shoulders.

Noticing Snape's dry, parched lips, Harry conjured a glass of water and shoved it in front of Snape before he could protest. Scowling deeper than ever, the man hesitated momentarily and then drank it one gulp, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

Harry looked around uncertainly, wondering what he should do. Technically he had checked up on Snape and the man was fine, right? But he had also not expressly told Harry to leave, yet. He wanted to milk the man's….neutral mood as long as it lasted.

He sat down on one of the plush blue armchairs with a loud thump. Snape's eyes opened again, surveying Harry with distaste, and travelled to the floor where Harry's huge canvas bag lay. "What is _that_?" He asked rudely.

Harry's lips turned up into a small smile. "You're not going to believe it."

Snape closed his eyes in irritation. "Potter, before your histrionics and insolent behavior bring me to an untimely death –"

"Okay, okay!" Harry dragged the bag to him and glanced cheekily up at Snape. "It's fan mail."

Snape eyed him with greater dislike than ever. "You brought your fan mail to _my _quarters, Potter? As I've said before, I don't care if you defeated Voldemort, I am not a member of the Harry Potter fan –"

Harry startled with surprise when Snape said Voldemort's name, feeling a little pleasure that the man no longer had to refer to him as the "Dark Lord". But he quickly cut Snape off.

"No, no, professor," Harry said quickly. "_Your_ fan mail."

Snape looked at him blankly. "What?"

Harry opened the bag, pulling out a few letters and showing their envelopes to Snape. "Severus Snape" was written on each of the envelopes, in all different variations of handwriting. One fan had drawn a heart around the name, which was flashing green and black.

"Er, yeah," Harry said, feeling slightly amused at the look of utter bewilderment on Snape's face. "Professor McGonagall told me to deliver these to you, they came in with tons of owls this morning. I opened just a few, to see what they were about, and…yeah." He bit his lip, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Some are just thank-you letters, but many are love letters. Some of which are very…graphic." He wrinkled his nose. "And there are a few, er, marriage proposals. Mostly from women, but a few from men."

Harry shoved a handful of letters into Snape's hand. He watched the man open one, his expression disgusted and disdainful, and read it (from a fair distance) over his shoulder.

_Dearest Severus Snape,_

_Hello! I am Wanda Mason of Yorkshire. It is truly an honor to write this letter to you, one of the biggest heroes in the history of the wizarding world. You were a couple years ahead of me at Hogwarts, but I was always immensely attracted to your brilliance and individuality, both of which have continued so wonderfully into your adulthood! I would just like to say that what you did for Lily Evans was truly beautiful; you are a true hero and worthy of endless love and care. You may think it is too soon but I already feel that I can honestly say I love you. As great as Lily Evans was, I know that you need a woman to fill that large hole in your heart. Would you please do me the great honor of marrying me? I am a very attractive woman, my –_

Harry only got that far reading because with a snort of disgust, Snape crumpled up the letter and threw it into the fireplace. It ignited immediately and within seconds, was a pile of ashes.

"How many have you read?" Snape asked, eyes narrowed.

"Just a few," Harry said defensively.

"Are they all like that?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I think so," he said.

"Take them, then. Take the bag and burn them, or keep them and read for your own pleasure, I don't care. But I do not want them. Reading the pathetic, maudlin whinings and wishes of depraved women is a waste of my time. And," he added as an afterthought, "is quite depressing."

Harry pushed his luck. "You mean you don't want to marry Wanda Mason?" he asked slyly, smirking.

Snape looked affronted for a second but then, to Harry's surprise, his eyes momentarily glinted with amusement and his mouth turned up in the briefest smirk, but one that was devoid of malice.

"Go away, Potter. You have thoroughly annoyed me today." The voice sounded annoyed, but was lacking its usual vitriol.

Harry glared at him but instead sat back down in one of the plush chairs and pulled the bag towards him. Kreacher had stopped staring at them and was now busy dusting books on the bookshelves, meticulously fingering the volumes as though they were precious jewels.

"Kreacher, would you mind bringing us some sandwiches?" Harry said offhandedly. Kreacher nodded viciously and disappeared with a crack.

"Potter, as much as your arrogance allows you to think you can make yourself at home anywhere," Snape said, "I need peace...and quiet…to…recover. Your…" But Snape's eyes slowly drifted shut; clearly the interaction with Harry had exhausted him. Within moments he was snoring soundly.

Harry smirked at the man, making himself comfortable on the chair and opening up several more letters. He snorted at the majority of them, privately pitying the poor women who thought Snape would ever accept their marriage proposal, and feeling thoroughly depressed by the blatant desperation of the rest. He ate the sandwiches Kreacher had brought ravenously, but made sure to leave a few for Snape. The dying sun bled into orange and red before finally disappearing, enveloping the room in darkness save the few candles Harry had lit to continue reading.

Eventually, as the night dragged on, the words of Snape's fan mail began to blur before Harry and he too drifted off to sleep, forgetting that he was in the private home of someone who hated him and would probably be furious to discover he had fallen asleep.

A few moments after Harry fell asleep, Kreacher led Madame Pomfrey in the room to do a quick diagnostic check on Snape. After spelling some more potions into his system and pulling the blanket firmly around his thin shoulders, she conjured one for Harry too and settled it gently on the boy.

Watching both sleeping men affectionately, she was struck by the thought that to any outsider, this would look like a father and son falling asleep in their living room after a long day. With a small smile at that thought, Madame Pomfrey sauntered out of the room and back down the stairs.


	8. News

Severus woke abruptly after a nightmare involving Voldemort and Bellatrix torturing him at Malfoy Manor. He sat up slowly, feeling stronger than he had previously but still shaken and cold. He sighed wearily; he hated being so weak and helpless, it was completely uncharacteristic and left him feeling remarkably childish. He instinctively pulled the blanket covering his body closer, until he remembered that he had not put it himself as he had fallen asleep accidentally. Perhaps Poppy, she had mentioned she would be up to bring him more potions…

He gingerly attempted to stand up off the couch before seeing a sleeping black lump on the chair beside him, surrounded by a mass of floating candles. Severus huffed internally. _Potter_.

Potter, too, was draped in a large blanket. Poppy must have come then…why had she not woken him? Why had she allowed the infernal child to remain in Severus's quarters when his presence was clearly undesired?

Snape glared down at Potter and tried to determine the most irritating and disruptive way to wake him up. He noticed Potter was sprawled in a very childish pose, in the fetus position with his own hand cupping his chin, but then realized that the "boy" was now seventeen – a man in the wizarding world. But he looked so…juvenile in his pose, almost…peaceful. Severus had the strangest desire to take Potter's glasses off, which were digging into the side of the chair and were probably causing him slight discomfort, but he immediately fought it down. What did it matter to him if the boy was uncomfortable?

He distractedly noticed Potter clutching a few more of those dratted _love_ letters – truly, Severus mused, the utter idiocy of humankind would never cease to amaze him. However, though he would never admit it outright and barely to himself, they had been the slightest, slightest bit amusing. Perhaps Potter had brought them to entertain himself, at Severus's expense; he'd known the man would be uncomfortable. He was just like his bloody father, drawing entertainment from the discomfort and embarrassment of others. With that bitter thought in mind, any temporarily…neutral…thoughts toward Potter immediately dispelled, and Severus shook him awake very roughly, hissing his name like a curse.

"Wha-" Potter asked dumbly, lifting his face to reveal one lens cracked on his glasses. Severus felt a spark of internal satisfaction.

"Get up." Severus ordered harshly, roughly yanking the wool blanket off the boy. "Potter, despite your title as the hero and savior of the wizarding world, you do not own the world or even this castle. When I asked you to leave before, I was not practicing my voice. Falling asleep in my personal quarters is unspeakably intrusive and rude, and it goes without saying that you are not welcome here. Thus, do not come here again. I am entirely capable of facilitating my own recovery and in fact, you and your idiocy probably would – already have, in fact – slowed the process down." He narrowed his eyes. "Now go back to the tower."

The boy was still rubbing his eyes but Severus could see the hateful glance through his hands. Potter drew his mouth into a thin line and stood up quickly. Severus realized that the boy was only a few inches shorter than him, but he used the slight height advantage to glare menacingly.

Potter stared at him defiantly for a few tense seconds and finally said, "I'm not giving up. But you are making this bloody difficult by being such an arse." He quickly strode out of the room and back down the stairs, before Severus could attack him for his unbelievable disrespect. Really, _who_ did the boy think he was?

Severus sat down wearily, trying to remain angry but finding that is required too much energy. He realized that Potter had left the bag of fan mail beside the chair. Severus threw the package a contemptuous glance and lifting his wand, gathered all the letters into the bag together and levitated it into the fire where, within moments, the vast flames reduced it to mere ashes.

Severus remained in his quarters recovering for the next few days, spending his blissfully quiet and carefree days reading or brewing potions when he had the energy. Slowly, due to frequent visits from Poppy and the aid of several potions, he was gaining back his physical and magical strength. Towards the end of the week he was feeling nearly back to normal, despite the damn neck wounds. Those were healing at a much slower rate and were still causing great discomfort when he slept.

To his immense relief, Potter did not show up again. Although Minerva had stopped in twice, the visits were both brief and did not require much energy. Severus knew that if he wanted to gain back his health as quickly as possible, his body needed all his focus and time. He could not waste it making small talk with others, not to mention he could not even stand the _sight_ of Potter.

It was with great reluctance that he agreed to go to breakfast Saturday morning, and he only did so because Minerva practically ordered him to. If only he could stop obeying orders from the headmaster of Hogwarts…it seemed to be chronic problem for him. She claimed that people were asking questions and wanted to make sure he was alright. Severus had snorted and asked if these "people" included Potter. She had given him a strange look, nodding yes, and then patronizingly told him that it was not a crime to care for the well-being of someone else. He had scowled pronouncedly.

Alas, he now made his way up to the dining hall, miraculously without his cane but walking at a slow pace. When he finally entered he walked quickly to the professors' table, ignoring the stares and whispers, and sat next to Minerva, who smiled at him widely. He tucked his head down and began to eat his eggs, despite not being that hungry. He needed to put on some weight if he wanted to get stronger, he mused, forcing down the food.

Suddenly, as all the owls delivered the day's post, a large and glossy brown owl dropped an official-looking letter on his plate. Scowling, Severus looked at it curiously. It had a Ministry seal. Feeling momentary panic that he could be tried for Azkaban, he opened it quickly, scanning the letter for key words.

_Dear Mr. Snape, _

_This is Meredith Kelly writing from the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic. It has come to our attention that despite our best efforts, we have not been able to track down Tom Riddle's remaining Death Eaters in as timely a fashion we had hoped. Unfortunately, we have reason to believe that one of them, Rudolphus Lestrange, has decided to follow in his master's footsteps and target Harry Potter once again. We would like to arrange a meeting with Minerva McGonagall, yourself, and Mr. Potter at your earliest convenience to discuss this development and devise a plan of action. Please write back promptly with a time, date, and location that would work for you. _

_Sincerely,_

_Meredith Kelly_

_Auror Department _

Severus glared up at the ceiling, sighing deeply. So, Potter was being hunted again, this time by Rudolphus Lestrange? Severus had known Rudolphus when he was a Death Eater, and the man had not been as devoted to Voldemort as his wife, but was perhaps a shade more skillful. He had certainly idolized Voldemort, but had always appeared slightly disdained when Bellatrix would flaunt her disgusting love for her master, so distastefully. Severus knew that Rudolphus had loved his wife fiercely, in a similar way to her love for Voldemort. He also remembered him as a flaming racist, always taking markedly perverse pleasure and torturing and killing Muggle-borns and Muggles.

Severus sighed again, thinking of Lily and his promise to Dumbledore to protect Harry. Technically, since Dumbledore was dead his promise was void, right? He was no longer bound by loyalty. But he knew in his conscience that that promise had truly been to Lily – or rather, her memory – instead of Dumbledore. Thus, he would have to continue to protect the blasted boy. Well, his two minutes of freedom had been nice while they lasted.

But Severus was confused as to why he was involved in the situation with the Aurors. Minerva made sense, she was the headmistress at the school where he had been staying, probably the closest thing to a guardian the boy had now. But why Severus? Upon ruminating, he supposed it had to do with his role as a Death Eater. Perhaps they thought he could give them tips or information on Rudolphus, he thought bitterly.

He quickly explained the situation to Minerva, who immediately looked deeply distressed and disturbed. He scribbled a quick reply to the Aurors to meet them in Minerva's office at 3 the next day. Casting a momentary glance at Potter to see if he had a clue what was going on – unlikely, Severus mused – he saw the boy watching the pair of them with trepidation and confusion, clutching a letter of his own. Minerva quickly got up to go speak to him but Severus stayed where he was, scowling darkly and wondering why he was cursed with having to protect the most targeted boy in the history of the wizarding world.

Severus entered Minerva's office the next day, possessing his usual calm and unaffected demeanor but privately feeling slight trepidation. Despite years working for Dumbledore, and years being protected by Dumbledore, he always felt uneasy around Aurors because of his past. They could still arrest him at any moment and bring him to Azkaban, though Severus had heard through the grapevine that Dementors were no longer being used at the prison. Still, spending his life in a prison cell in the middle of the ocean did not sound ideal.

Severus nodded curtly to Meredith Kelly, who, at six feet tall with her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, did admittedly look intimidating. Severus remembered that she had joined the Order of the Phoenix late in the war, a few weeks before he had killed Dumbledore. He nodded less politely to Mark Savage, standing beside her and looking similarly intimidating with his tall stature and rigid features. Minerva conjured four chairs and indicated for them to sit. Potter, as usual, was late. Probably considered himself above the rules more than ever now, probably wanted to impress the Aurors with his fame and prestige…

"Mr. Snape," Kelly said unexpectedly, her face softening as she looked across at Severus, "both Mark and I would like to extend our thanks for your actions in the war. After you killed Albus Dumbledore, you actually became one of our top targets, behind Voldemort and…Bellatrix Lestrange." She spoke the name loathingly, but smiled slightly at him. "I was extremely pleased to hear that you had actually been on our side all along." Savage's hard line of a mouth curved briefly into a small smile behind her. Severus, unsure what to say or do, nodded lightly and looked back to Minerva, whose face showed a variety of conflicting emotions.

Suddenly Potter ran into the office, his face red and breathing hard, seeming temporarily awe-struck by the formidable appearance of the two Aurors. He hesitated momentarily and then took the seat next to Severus.

"Sorry I'm late – I was talking to Nev –"

"You always like to make startling entrances, don't you, Potter?" Severus growled, eyeing the boy distastefully. Potter shot him a glare. The two Aurors briefly shared an uneasy look, bemusing Severus – why would they care if he and the boy didn't get along well?

"Mr. Potter," Kelly spoke, extending her hand across the chairs, "it is an immense honor to meet you. Your actions and abilities go without saying. My sources tell me that you once desired to become an Auror; I understand that it is likely much too early for you to decide on any career paths, but I would like to say on behalf of myself, Mark, and the entire Auror department, that we would be delighted to have you in our ranks."

_Oh, wonderful_. Severus thought. The boy's head was already unbelievably inflated, now he would get even cockier from this praise and obsequiousness. He hadn't even taken the N.E.W.T.s! He watched Potter take Kelly's hand, quietly thanking her, with a strangely flushed but…embarrassed expression? He probably just didn't want the Aurors to think he was too arrogant, Severus thought.

Severus waited for one of the Aurors to start talking, curious as to his role in the entire matter.

"Alright," Savage said, clasping his hands together, "it is time to discuss the matter at hand. Mr. Potter, you received our letter yesterday?" Potter nodded, fear clouding his expression. Pathetic.

"Yeah, I did. So, er, Bellatrix Lestrange's…husband…is after me? How do you know?"

"We have captured various other Death Eaters who were on the run with him in recent weeks, and upon the use of Veritaserum we have discovered that Lestrange, who was deeply devoted to his wife, blames you for her death. He has transferred his obsessive, psychotic aims to capturing and killing you." Savage spoke bluntly, which Severus appreciated. No use walking on eggshells around the boy, who had blanched.

"However," interjected Kelly, staring slightly concernedly at the boy, who was turning remarkably white, "this is not a major reason for concern. The entire Auror department has made it our sole mission to find and imprison Rudolphus, and to keep you safe. We do not predict that this will be a long or arduous process; Rudolphus is a skilled wizard, but not nearly as powerful as Voldemort. However, it has come to our attention that you may not be entirely safe at the castle. May I ask, what are your plans for the rest of the summer?"

"Er- what?" the boy asked, seeming bemused by the change of topic. "Well, I s'pose I was planning on spending the summer here…a couple other students are too, I was thinking I could study and catch up on some work I missed" – _as if_, Snape thought – "and then, er, next year I wasn't really sure if I was going to repeat my seventh year or…try to get a job. And live on my own."

The Aurors both nodded. "But you have no immediate, pressing plans?" Potter shook his head.

"Alright. Well, it goes without saying that as the savior of the wizarding world" – Severus closed his eyes in irritation, he could practically see the boy's ego growing each minute – "your safety is also a top priority of the Ministry. Like we said, the castle is normally incredibly safe, but as of now you need to be with one person whose top priority is your safety. We want to place you at home with someone who has the utmost capabilities." Severus sighed internally; why was he here? They had already discussed Lestrange and had not asked him any questions.

"Oh," said Potter, nodding. "So, one of you? Another Auror?"

"Well," said Savage, frowning a little, "we had originally deemed that an ideal course of action, as of course we are all extremely skilled in catching Dark wizards. However, we decided that our efforts would be better put to use in catching Lestrange, not necessarily protecting you. And," he said, frowning a little more, "we ascertained that we are, perhaps, not the most skilled people possible for the job."

"What?" Potter's expression was blank. "But you're…Aurors." Merlin, the boy was brilliant.

"Yes," Kelly said, smiling briefly, "we are. But Aurors are not the only powerful wizards."

"Uh, okay." Potter said uncertainly, "so who are you planning on putting me with? Another Ministry member?" Severus himself felt similarly bewildered – and again, why was he here? It seemed the Aurors were being purposefully facetious.

"No." Savage said. "We decided that, due to an extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts and Lestrange himself, as well as proven magical ability and a vested interest in your protection…we would like to place you with Severus Snape."

There were a few tense moments as everyone digested the information and then Severus exploded. "NO!" he roared, standing up quickly and staring at them menacingly. "Potter cannot – I do not – live with me – significant mutual hatred –" He continued incoherently, seemingly rendered incapable of maintaining his usual mask of indifference due to extreme anger and desperation.

Potter similarly looked angry, though with more trepidation. "Please, Mr. Savage, Ms. Kelly…" he looked imploringly at Minerva. "Sn- Professor Snape hates me, it wouldn't do either of us good to be…alone together. Surely one of you or someone else could take me." He looked desperate. Severus was trying to control his anger and desperately thinking of ways out of this.

"No," interjected a voice, and Severus was extremely displeased to see that it was Minerva. He shot her the dirtiest look he could muster, but she stared back defiantly. "I know that Severus and Potter have a history of…mutual dislike." Well, that was a massive understatement. "But I think that in light of recent events and…discoveries," she raised her eyebrows meaningfully, "reconciliation is possible." Severus and Potter both snorted disbelievingly, sharing a hateful look. "And it is undeniable that Severus is incredibly talented, and has a history of protecting Potter. I think it is a fitting situation." Oh, Severus could kill her.

"Brill-" Kelly started to say brightly, but Severus cut her off.

"No!" he hissed angrily. "I need to spend this summer recovering, not _protecting_ Harry Potter again! You cannot force me to take the boy. It undeniably violates Ministry rules." He raised his eyebrows condescendingly.

"Mr. Snape." Savage said, pursing his lips. "We cannot deny your heroic role in the war, but it does not escape our notice that you undoubtedly participated in some gruesome Death Eater activities – you had to as a spy, we understand, we understand," he said quickly at Severus's murderous stare, "but we would appreciate if you would cooperate with us on this. It seems, to me, to be another step towards redemption."

Severus was seething. How dare they speak of redemption? They did not know the meaning of the word. He balled his hands into fists and noticed, surprised, that Potter was staring at him with resignation.

"Severus, I think it's a wonderful idea." Severus heard Dumbledore's bright voice and sharply directed his glance to the man's portrait. "I would highly recommend you accept Mark's and Meredith's offer. Please." His blues eyes twinkled like they always did when he was giving an order. Severus sighed angrily. Even in death, the man had power over him. Damn loyalty.

He took in a long breath of air and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. He prized himself on his cool and calm demeanor, but his temper undeniably needed some work.

"Fine." He hissed finally. "But- "

"Wonderful!" said Kelly, bringing her hands together as though to clap. "So, as this matter is of great importance, I think that you both should depart for Severus's home as soon as possible. How about you both gather your belongings and meet in the entrance hall around 6, and can depart to your home from Hogsmeade." Severus did not nod, but stared back stonily in acknowledgement.

"Alright." Minerva stood up. "Thank you, Aurors, for your time. I'll see you boys both back here tonight." Had she just called Severus a_ boy_?

"We'll be in touch, Mr. Snape." Savage said as he passed by on the way out. "This arrangement is highly temporary, remember. Should only last for a week – a few at most." Savage and Kelly, with a final farewell nod to Potter and Minerva, swiftly made their way out the door.

"Severus." Minerva said, staring at him with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance. "Please be reasonable."

Severus threw both of them a dirty look and quickly swept outside, his black cloak billowing behind him.

"He'll come around," he heard Minerva say as the door closed. He heard Potter sigh in response.

Well, at least he and the boy agreed on one thing.


	9. Changes

**Author's note: I hope you are all enjoying the story so far! Hopefully things pick up a little bit in this chapter, the hatred between Snape and Harry decreases a little. Please keep reviewing! Enjoy!**

Harry trudged down the stairs toward the entrance hall at ten to six, trying to start off on a decent foot with Snape. His few belongings were enclosed in a small bag, which he had tucked within his robes, trying to make an inconspicuous escape as to not raise attention. He waited at the door anxiously, politely nodding at those who waved or goggled at him, flattening his hair and willing Snape to hurry up.

Snape appeared a few minutes later, clad in his usual black robes and not appearing to carry any luggage either. He swept past Harry without so much as a sideways glance, making his way out of the large doors and walking towards the gates. Harry, annoyed, struggled to keep up but Snape did nothing to slow his quick stride. His dramatically billowing robes and rapid pace sharply contrasted with the sunny, peaceful atmosphere of the dying summer afternoon.

Finally, after Harry felt like he had sped-walked a mile, they reached Hogwarts Station. Snape turned around slowly to face Harry, his face etched with dislike and derision. "Are you really that out of shape, Potter?" he asked condescendingly, observing Harry's red face and labored breathing.

"You were walking so bloody fast," Harry started angrily, "I couldn't keep up-"

"Language, Potter!" Snape hissed angrily. He looked stonily at Harry, and with the air of having to do something unpleasant, said, "Take my arm. We are going to Apparate."

But Harry didn't move. "I know how to Apparate myself. There is no need for the side-long kind."

Snape stared at Harry in disbelief but when he spoke his lips smirked. "You have truly surpassed the boundaries of human stupidity, Potter. I must say I am shocked that even you cannot draw logical conclusions of which a toddler would be capable." Harry clenched his jaw furiously. Snape spoke slowly, as though to someone hard of hearing. "You do not know where we are going, Potter. Only I do. Thus, we must Apparate…jointly."

Harry flushed with embarrassment, but still angered by Snape's words, turned away stonily. He grabbed Snape's arm, rather tightly to inflict a little pain, and felt experienced the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube.

Before he knew it, he was standing on the steps of a rather bleak-looking house. Snape approached the door, unlocking it, and after a cursory glance around stepped inside. Harry followed closely behind, still angry but intrigued to see what Snape's house looked like. There was a small living room, in which the walls were all obscured by endless shelves of books, and some sparse furniture. Snape quickly approached one of the bookshelves, tapping it lightly with his wand and causing a large fireplace to appear. He grabbed a handful of what looked like Floo powder from a small bowl and impatiently gestured for Harry to come over. "Step in," he ordered.

"Why?" asked Harry, confused. "Isn't this your house?"

"This is the house that the Death Eaters believe I own." Snape said impatiently. "However, I like all humans, require solace at times. I own another home that only a few people know about." He inclined his head toward the fireplace. "Step in." He commanded.

Harry hesitated momentarily and then stepped into the fireplace, giving in to his curiosity. Snape stepped in after him, gripped his arm painfully, threw down the powder and enunciated, "Scotland Cottage".

After a few more moments of discomfort, Harry fell ungracefully onto a hardwood floor, hearing Snape snort behind him. He raised his head slightly, embarrassed that he had so much trouble Flooing, and was met with a surprise.

They were in a small cottage, with hardwood floors and light green walls like those in Snape's quarters at Hogwarts. Through a large window directly across from Harry there was a large, seemingly endless lake, bathed in the brilliant oranges and reds of the dying sun. Windows on the other two perpendicular walls offered a view of thick trees, indicating a forest.

Harry and Snape were currently in a small living room, which looked strangely lived in. Neutrally colored chairs and a blue couch were placed around a mahogany coffee table, which was littered with papers and a teacup. Like in the other house, stuffed bookshelves covered the walls, framing the windows. Through a slightly ajar door to the side, a small kitchen was visible.

But when Harry looked to the other side, he uttered a small gasp. A large black piano sat in the corner of the room, its keys battered and beaten as though from frequent use. Sheets of music lay atop the piano, along with another teacup.

Harry slowly got to his feet, brushing the soot off his clothes, totally bewildered and surprised by Snape's home. Who would have thought Snape would have a lakefront cottage? And that it would be…nice, almost cozy? And that he played the _piano_?

Snape had already brushed past Harry and out into the kitchen. Harry quickly followed, eager to see more of the house. The two quickly passed through the kitchen, which had basic appliances and chestnut cabinets, and more airy windows with a lake view, and ascended a winding staircase.

They came onto a landing with three doors. Snape opened the first door and impatiently gestured Harry inside. It was a spacious room, containing a large four-poster bed, small mahogany desk, and matching mahogany wardrobe. The large windows provided a view of an expansive, never-ending green forest. The walls were painted powder blue.

Harry stared at the room appreciatively and distractedly noticed Snape irritably rubbing his eyes. The man was staring at a book on a bedside table on the opposite side of the room from where he was, apparently trying and failing to read the title. Harry had known that the medication he took for his neck wounds had affected his vision, but he thought it had gone back to normal. After a few moments of impatient rubbing and squinting, Snape, scowling, took his glasses out of his robes and put them on. Suddenly illuminated by the dying rays of sunlight, Harry saw how tired and beaten Snape looked, and felt a wave of pity wash over his previous anger. Snape, after all he had done for Harry, now had to protect the boy again, this time in his own home. No wonder he resented Harry.

Snape saw Harry giving him a weird look and immediately sneered, though the effect was lessened with his glasses. "Not up to your usual standards, Potter? My deepest apologies."

"No." Harry said back, his tone void of malice or anger. "This is actually the nicest room I have ever had."

Snape, who had been turning to leave, whirled back around. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Harry looked back defiantly. "My room at home with the Dursleys had bars on it. Before that, my room was a cupboard under the stairs." He said bluntly. "I love my dorm at Hogwarts, but it was never my own. So, again, this is the nicest room I've ever had."

Snape stared at his disbelievingly. Harry sighed.

"You knew my Aunt Petunia. " he stated. Snape paused, then nodded imperceptibly. "She wasn't the kindest kid, right? You didn't get along?"

Snape pursed his lips as if deciding whether or not this conversation was worth his time. "I always found her detestable." He finally said.

"Well, she didn't grow up to be much better than she was as a kid." Harry said. "She hated magic, as you know, and passed on that sentiment to my uncle. They both consequently hated me, and treated me terribly. You know," he said thoughtfully, "I used to think you and the Dursleys would get along. You both hated me, with a passion. It's funny that you actually hate Aunt Petunia. And I can't imagine you'd be pals with Uncle Vernon, he's rather…ignorant." Harry imagined Vernon Dursley angrily insulting wizards to Snape, and Snape staring down at him in disgust. His lips twitched into a brief smile. "I don't think they would have cared if I lived or died." He admitted. "But now you know, I was far from spoiled as a child. I guess I was actually more of a victim."

Snape stared at Harry, his eyes bright as if he were trying to decipher a difficult puzzle. His expression was impassive, but held a hint of disbelief. Seeming to not know what to say, he remained silent.

"Thanks again for the room," said Harry softly, as the room became darker as the sun set. "I'm sorry if me being here is an inconvenience. I'll try to stay out of your way."

Snape did not respond, but did not make a derisive comment. In the shadows of the oncoming night, he looked darker than ever, but Harry did not find him menacing.

"Come downstairs for dinner in an hour." He said finally and swept outside the room.

Harry put his few belongings in the wardrobe and wrote brief notes to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione to update them on his current living situation. Not having an owl, he decided he'd have to ask Snape how he sent letters around here. Bored, he decided to explore the rest of the house. He carefully walked down the stairs, expecting Snape to be in the living room reading or doing something academic, but instead he was in the kitchen…cooking. He was wearing a light green sweater, the sleeves rolled up, and black trousers. He appeared to be making some sort of pie, as he was chopping vegetables and had laid out a pie crust. Strangely, he was doing nothing by magic.

His head whipped around quickly as he heard Harry's footsteps. Harry wished he had those reflexes.

"Er…would you like some help, sir?" asked Harry. He felt like it was polite, he always helped cook dinner with the Weasleys. Plus, he didn't really mind cooking, when he wasn't under pressure to cook the Dursleys' eggs with Aunt Petunia yelling at him.

Snape looked at him in disbelief, and Harry thought he would have immediately said no if he hadn't been so surprised. "What?" He said, his eyes narrowed.

"I offered to help with dinner." Said Harry. "I know how to cook."

Snape looked like he was about to deny the request, probably yelling, but then seemed to realize with a malicious smile that he could derive some pleasure from Harry struggling to cook. He inclined his head. "Fine. Chop the vegetables."

Harry grumbled and walked over to the cutting board, taking the knife and beginning to chop the carrots.

"Do it _evenly_, Potter." Snape said rudely, glaring at him.

"I am doing it evenly."

"Diagonal cuts do _not_ create even pieces." He said condescendingly. "Hold it like this." He took his own knife and demonstrated. Harry begrudgingly followed suit and found that the carrots were now identical in size and shape. It was not lost on Harry that if Snape had taught potions like that, the class would have been significantly easier and less painful.

"So, why do you enjoy cooking?" Harry asked conversationally, trying to be civil.

Snape sighed as if annoyed by Harry's presence and gave him a sideways glance as if to decide whether or not to respond. "It is therapeutic." He said simply.

"I guess it's a little like potions." Harry mused.

"Some aspects can mimic those of brewing, yes."

Harry and Snape continued cooking together, Harry rather shocked that they had just exchanged words in a somewhat civil tone. They worked, chopping and measuring and mixing, in somewhat…companionable silence, and as the outside turned black Harry was bemused to see Snape flick on dim lights, and wandlessly light few random candles. The man sure liked darkness, Harry thought, but the candles lit the room in a warm and comfortable glow. Eventually the two of them sat down and ate a salad while the shepherd's pie was cooking.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Snape asked Harry, to the boy's surprise. The question was spoken in a cold tone, but he sounded genuinely curious.

"Quite honestly, I don't remember. I always had to cook for the Dursleys, usually eggs and stuff, so it was always kind of…natural for me."

Snape pursed his lips. "You cooked for them?" he asked incredulously, seeming to believe Harry was lying.

"Yes." Said Harry, annoyed. "Usually for my cousin Dudley. I guess my aunt and uncle thought, hey, here's an able-bodied young boy, since he lives here why don't we put him to good use. Except the ironic part was that I usually couldn't eat what I cooked, it would all go to them. I would be sent up to my room with something measly and insufficient. That's why I was so short the first few years at Hogwarts, my growth had been stunted." Harry stopped, unsure why he was being so honest with Snape, of all people. "I mean, it wasn't awful. I wasn't really abused, they never hit me, it was more…neglect."

Snape's expression was unreadable. "Neglect is still abuse, Potter." He said bluntly, as though it were obvious.

Harry cocked his head in acknowledgement. "Well, I did make it out alive, if barely so. And it wasn't even the Dursleys that almost killed me in the end, though I wouldn't put it past them, it was Voldemort." Harry smiled a little, trying to somewhat appease Snape, who had assumed a very serious and grave expression, even more so than normal.

But Snape didn't smile. For some reason Harry imagined telling Ron and Hermione the same thing, knowing that Ron would have smiled too but Hermione would have assumed the same stern expression as Snape. Funny, that.

Snape stood up suddenly and took the shepherd's pie out of the oven. He cut into it carefully, oddly reminding Harry of Mrs. Weasley in the domestic role. He levitated the plate over to the table and Harry took a generous helping, biting in and feeling surprised at how good it tasted.

"This is good, sir," Harry said through a mouthful of pie.

"Potter, act above two years old and don't speak while you're chewing." Snape said disdainfully, himself taking small, measured bites.

"Sorry." Harry swallowed. "But this is almost at Mrs. Weasley's level."

"Are you surprised that I am capable of throwing vegetables and spices together and making it not taste atrocious?" He asked coldly.

Ignoring the jibe, Harry shook his head. "I'm not surprised, you're really good at potions so it makes sense you're good at this too." He looked hard at Snape. "You should have stayed for dinner and helped Mrs. Weasley cook, at Order meetings."

Snape sneered and wrinkled his nose. "I had no desire to socialize with those…people. I had more important matters to attend to at the time." He said patronizingly.

"I understand. But it wouldn't have hurt, you know, to be friendlier with those people. They would have welcomed you."

Snape shook his head imperceptibly. "They all privately thought I was deceiving Dumbledore. Their trust was limited, if not nonexistent."

Harry shook his head. "If you had opened up to them, even the slightest bit, you know they would have trusted you, or at least treated you more nicely. They are all kind-hearted people." He looked at Snape pointedly. "That includes me."

Snape sneered and scowled deeply. "I do not 'open up' to people, Potter." He said coolly.

"No kidding." Snape glared at him, but did not respond. Harry decided to press his luck. "For example, if I had known, from the beginning, about you and my mum-"

"Potter," Snape hissed, putting his hand up to silence Harry, his face becoming livid, "we are _not_ going to discuss your mother for the duration of our stay here-"

"Why not?" asked Harry angrily. "I don't understand why you never want to talk about your emotions, it would be good –"

"Shut up, Potter!" barked Snape. "You know nothing of what would be good for me and my so-called 'emotions', though your arrogance allows you-"

"I saw the memories!" exclaimed Harry. Snape's face turned whiter and angrier in the candlelight. "I know how you felt, how you feel! Do you realize that I never even knew her? All I want to do is talk –"

"Shut up,_ Potter_." Snape hissed furiously. "Like I said before, we will not be discussing your mother, nor my _feelings_, as much as you desire that I 'open up'. Go upstairs, now."

"What?"

"Do you speak English, Potter? Get out of my sight!" Snape yelled.

"Fine!" Harry yelled back, getting out of his chair quickly and carelessly levitating his dish into the sink, where it landed loudly. "If you want to continue to act like a cold-blooded prat who doesn't feel anything, that is fine by me! I am only trying to_ help_!" He pushed his chair in roughly and stormed upstairs, missing Snape staring at the dish he had levitated.

Harry sat on his bed for the next three hours, bored out of his mind. He wrote a few more letters to let people know of his whereabouts, to Luna, Neville, and Andromeda Tonks. Harry hoped Teddy was doing well and that he would be able to see him soon, but Harry couldn't imagine that Snape would let Andromeda bring the baby over. He bet he loathed babies, probably thought they were dirty or something. Harry imagined his godson, his bright hair always changing colors, and wondered if he would have Tonks's inquisitive personality, or Remus's mild, kind attitude. Thinking of the dead couple and their surviving son, Harry felt his eyes prickle.

He decided to peruse the books in his room. He was surprised to find that many of them were fictional Muggle classics, some of which were marked with a small periwinkle bookmark with the initials "A.D." Harry figured Dumbledore must have slept in this room sometimes when he and Snape were planning or plotting something, maybe even about him. The idea made him strangely sentimental.

Harry settled on a book titled _Jane Eyre _by Charlotte Bronte. He remembered that Aunt Petunia had read it for her book club and had hated it, saying it was simplistic and boring. Harry figured any book worthy of Petunia's aversion must be decent enough to read.

He settled comfortably in the bed, feeling a cool night breeze from the lake through the open windows, breathing in the fresh scent. He was nodding off until he heard, almost indistinctly, a quiet melody coming from somewhere in the house. It was low and sonorous, and had a remarkably tragic sound. Harry supposed Snape had a record player or CD player, though the first seemed more likely.

Then Harry realized, with a start, that Snape was probably playing the piano.

Harry knew he had been wrong to push Snape's buttons on their first day, but he really did want to talk about his mother, and thought it would be healthy for Snape to do so too. However, the man had been extremely rude as usual, and was not accepting Harry's efforts to be civil, or at least had only done so for a little while.

Harry sighed. He knew he should apologize, and sometimes people tended to be more forgiving in the quiet peace of the night. He quietly slipped out of bed, clad in his pajamas and bathrobe, and pattered down the winding stairs. He paused in the kitchen, where everything had been cleared and only a few candles remained burning, and listened.

It was definitely Snape playing the piano, Harry could see his shadow on the floor in the moonlight. His body remained still but his fingers moved deftly across the keys, purposefully and quickly. Harry was stunned at the man's talent; the music was flawlessly beautiful.

He quietly crept into the room, and for a moment Snape was so immersed in playing he didn't notice Harry, but then abruptly, the music ended. Snape glared at Harry and said, "Go to bed, Potter."

Harry ignored him and sat on a chair, facing Snape. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

Snape, seeming to not have expected that Harry would apologize, looked momentarily disarmed and did not speak. He instead brushed his hand over his face, over the glasses he was wearing, as if in exhaustion. As he shifted, a shaft of moonlight simultaneously illuminated his Dark Mark, which his fallen sleeve had exposed, and the scars on his neck. His hands went back to resting gently on the keys.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?" Harry asked quietly, unable to keep the question. He knew Snape would probably bite his head off for asking, but he was genuinely curious.

Snape looked at him, but surprisingly he didn't look angry. "That's a very personal question, Potter."

"I know."

Snape paused momentarily. "I don't know." He said flatly. His tone was filled with regret.

"Did you…did you buy into Voldemort's ideas?" Harry asked, hoping he did not set Snape off, happy that at least he was being somewhat honest. "About blood purity and stuff?"

Snape glared at him, knowing it was a reference to his mother. He paused again before answering. "I did not like Muggles." He said baldly. "My experiences with all Muggles had been very negative, so I supported Voldemort's opinion that wizards should have supremacy." He deliberately ignored Harry's question about blood purity, but continued on, his regretful tone apparent. "Like many people desiring something…greater, I wanted power and recognition. Voldemort knew how to attract his followers, he was a master manipulator. I was blindsided, like many insecure and impressionable young people." He sighed heavily and suddenly seemed years older. "I did not understand the injustice and inhumanity of his actions until many years after I was branded."

Harry nodded slowly, thrilled that Snape had finally opened up and had not hexed him for such a personal question. But another, much more personal question, came off his tongue before he could control it.

"Did you ever kill anyone? Besides Dumbledore, which doesn't count." Harry asked quietly, his heart thumping as Snape's expression turned angry. But Harry got the feeling that his fury wasn't directed at him, but someone else, or perhaps…himself.

Snape paused for minutes before answering. "Not directly, no." He finally said. Harry knew he was speaking the truth.

"So through potions and stuff?" Harry asked, feeling stupid at the childish tone and words.

"'Stuff?'" asked Snape mockingly, but his tone was devoid of malice. "There are many ways to kill someone, Potter, not only Avada Kedavra."

"Did Voldemort ever care that you didn't directly kill people?"

"Somewhat." Snape said evasively. "He was under the impression that I preferred killing people with more creative methods, as opposed to the quick and painless Killing Curse. That was not the case however; I was just too cowardly to perform the curse."

"Being unable to kill someone is not cowardly." Harry said adamantly, thinking of Draco Malfoy on the Astronomy Tower, and his pained and petrified face. "It shows you have a conscience."

Snape seemed to have no response to that and instead chose to shuffle the music around on the piano. Harry, gratified that Snape had been so open, said quietly, "You can ask me a question if you'd like. I don't care if it's really personal."

Snape huffed. "I can ask you a question whenever I wish, Potter."

"True." Harry smiled a little. "Well, ask away."

Snape rolled his eyes at the colloquial language. He paused before speaking pointedly, to Harry's surprise. "Why did you approach me, in the Shrieking Shack?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "You mean when Nagini had bitten you?"

"Yes."

"Why did I approach you?" Harry repeated, thinking back to that awful and wonderful day, the most emotionally charged day of his life. "Because you were dying."

"Why would my impending death cause you to approach me?"

Harry furrowed his brow further, unsure of what Snape was asking. "It was instinct, I guess." He looked into Snape's dark eyes, rendered totally black in the night. "I wasn't going to let you die alone."

Snape paused for a moment and a flash of emotion passed through his eyes. "Why not?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Harry stared at him. "Nobody should die alone." He said.

"Even Voldemort?" Snape pressed.

"Even if it had been Voldemort…well, no, I don't think I would approach him if he lay dying. But you can't compare yourself to him, at all." Harry thought, trying to remember his emotions in that moment. "Like I said, it was instinct. Even though I hated you, hated your guts for killing Dumbledore, I guess almost as much as I hated Voldemort for killing my parents, I knew in the back of my mind that you had saved me more than once. Maybe I knew, on some deeper level, that you were good all along, that the cards just didn't add up to characterize you as evil." He paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Snape's scars. "Maybe it was my mother speaking through me."

Snape opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He seemed to not know how to respond again, and went back to shuffling music.

"Thanks for answering my question, sir," Harry said quietly, standing up. "Please continue playing the music. It was beautiful. Where did you learn?"

"My mother taught me." he said evenly.

"Well, she must have been good." Harry said. "Good night sir,"

Harry barely heard Snape as he walked out the door, but felt a small smile on his lips at Snape's soft reply. "Good night to you too, Potter."


	10. Small Pleasures

Severus woke the next morning at seven feeling restless, as he always did in the morning; he had always been an insomniac. At home, he played the piano when he couldn't sleep, but at Hogwarts, he often walked the halls. These traipses served a dual purpose; they allowed him to clear his head, but also catch rule-breakers like Potter.

_Potter_.

Severus had momentarily forgotten that Potter was currently staying in _his_ house and upon the realization, uttered a small groan and ran a hand tiredly over his face. Although the boy's presence had not been as _abysmally_ intolerable as usual, Severus knew sooner or later his true colors would be exposed and he would return to hating the boy with all his might.

_Not_ that he had stopped hating the boy, whatsoever.

Severus woke and bathed, thinking about Hogwarts as he stood in the scalding hot water. He didn't bathe much at Hogwarts because he was usually distracted by more important matters, but due to the large bathtub he had at the cottage, and his bathroom's view of the lake, he did so with much more frequency during the summers there. After dressing, he tended to his scars and after another annoyed sigh, put on his dratted glasses.

He trudged down the stairs, mentally slapping himself for not telling the boy an exact time to be awake for breakfast. Today he was going to set down the rules for the duration of this…stay, because in his experience, Potter, though a chronic rule-breaker, would wreak havoc _everywhere_ if not for some stringent limitations. Like the teenage boy he was, Potter was probably going to sleep until noon and then expect breakfast. Well, perhaps not. After what Severus had heard about the boy's relatives, he thought that perhaps a few of his strictly-held beliefs had been slight misconceptions…

Caught up in his musings, Severus descended the stairs and was shell-shocked to see Potter standing at the counter, clean and dressed, holding a spoon. From the smell and bowl of batter behind him, the boy seemed to be making pudding.

"Good morning, sir," said the boy…nervously? "I'm making pudding."

"I see that, Potter. I have eyes." Severus tried to think of a way to ridicule the boy. "You think me a child, that I would eat _pudding_?"

Potter frowned. "Pudding isn't exclusively for children to eat. It's just _breakfast_." He raised his eyebrows for emphasis, then turned around and continued mixing.

Severus glared at him, but though he was loath to admit it, the food smelled remarkably good, and Severus was not up to cooking. He threw a hateful glance towards Potter that he did not see, and slowly sat down at a chair, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table.

"Did you sleep well?" Potter asked. As if he were the host. Severus rolled his eyes.

"None of your business, Potter." He growled.

Potter turned around carrying two bowls of pudding, placing one before Severus.

"Well, I slept well." Potter continued conversationally. "The music from your piano actually lulled me to sleep."

Severus glared up at him, and reached for his wand to run a test on the food, to make sure it wasn't poisoned. It wasn't. Potter looked at him, aghast. "You think I put poison in the food?" he asked incredulously.

"Potter, I am not a foolish man." Severus said evenly. "I always run tests on my food when it is not made by myself or the Hogwarts house elves." He paused. "And I do find it a little…_suspicious_ that you are awake early and made breakfast without being asked." He narrowed his eyes.

Potter glared back defiantly. "It was a friendly gesture. There is no ulterior motive." He slid into his own seat across from Severus, staring out the window instead of eating his food. "You must be a pretty paranoid man to do that all the time."

"I have reason to be paranoid, Potter."

Potter seemed to not know how to respond to that. He chose to delve into his pudding, which, after a moment's hesitation, Severus did too, although with more reserve and maturity. He was unpleasantly surprised to find that it tasted very good.

"Constant vigilance," Potter said quietly, smiling stupidly to himself.

"Moody," Snape muttered in spite of himself, rolling his eyes.

Potter looked up at him and his eyes were suddenly very melancholy. "He should have survived the war. If it hadn't been for me…" Potter trailed off and put his spoon down, looking troubled.

Severus didn't respond. He admitted, he had thought Mad-Eye Moody had the best shot of anyone at surviving the war – he was one of the toughest Aurors Severus had ever met. Even though he hadn't particularly liked the man – although his dire was more directed at the man that had impersonated Moody – his death had been unexpected and shocking.

As for the part about it being Potter's fault, it wasn't. Potter hadn't suggested the idea of decoys; on Dumbledore's orders, Severus had.

"I gave the order to Fletcher to suggest decoys." Severus said flatly.

Potter looked at him again and there was surprise and…what was that gratitude?...on his face. "I could have said no. Flat-out refused."

"You could have," Severus responded indifferently, "but they likely wouldn't have listened. Moody was likely to die that night either way."

Potter was watching him with a grateful expression, and Severus felt himself wince. He had not intended for the boy to draw any comfort from his words, he had merely been saying the truth – or perhaps, the version of truth that he had been telling himself.

"I suppose you're right." Potter conceded, watching him carefully.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, watching the sun fully come up into the sky and cause the water to sparkle. While he was teaching and studying, Severus loved the darkness, but in his own home, he favored the light much more. Severus wondered if that confused Potter.

Potter stood up suddenly and, bringing both dishes to the sink, quickly washed, dried, and placed them back in the cabinet. Severus did not thank him but instead motioned with his head for Potter to sit down.

"Potter. It is time to set some rules." Severus leaned back and crossed his arms, trying to look intimidating. Potter did not look cowed, and Severus huffed internally. "I do not know how long you will be here – hopefully you are out as soon as possible – but for the foreseeable future, you are in danger and thus must stay here. I need not impress upon you how unfavorable it would be to encounter Rudolphus Lestrange." He paused. "Thus, you cannot leave this house, unless you have my permission, which will be given rarely. Since you will have copious amounts of downtime, I suggest you catch up on the work you missed this past year." Potter made a face and Severus rolled his eyes. "I do not know your ambitions or plans, Potter, but I think that even the Chosen One ought to have a sufficient education. Seventh-year material is the most important for any career." Potter opened his mouth to speak but Severus raised a hand to silence him. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be served every day at eight, noon, and six. If…if you wish to make a meal, I will not stop you," Potter widened his eyes and gave a minute smile, "but if not, it will always be here."

Potter opened his mouth again but closed it. He was watching Severus with the strangest expression on his face.

"I am going to go work on potions." Severus stood up. "I will owl to get some textbooks from Hogwarts. In the meantime, I am sure you can find something to amuse yourself. But do not touch anything that is not yours, besides those books in yo- in the room you're staying in." Severus swept out of the room, unaware that Harry was still watching him with that strange expression.

Severus spent his morning working on a pain reliever he was developing, to rid himself of the after-effects of the Cruciatus, after-effects that still gave him extreme arthritis-like pain. It was calming to be back in his own basement, therapeutically brewing something that would actually do good, instead of something that would maim and kill like all of the potions he'd made for Voldemort.

He made his way to the kitchen at quarter to noon, and was surprised to see Potter sitting at the table holding a book and eating a sandwich. Another plate containing a sandwich and chips was placed where Severus had sat that morning.

Staring confusedly at the boy, Severus sat down and picked up the sandwich gingerly, wanting to be cautious but not wanting to offend the boy again by using the testing spell.

Wait, when did he _care_ about offending the boy?

"Have you ever read _Jane Eyre_?" Potter asked as Severus bit into the sandwich and found it to be, unsurprisingly, very good. He nodded in response.

"I read it before I went to Hogwarts. When I was ten."

"Ten?" Potter asked. "It's huge!"

Severus stared impassively, sneering. "I was a gifted reader, Potter."

"I guess that makes sense. You're kind of a genius." Potter muttered. Severus felt taken aback at the compliment, but did not respond.

"Did you like it?" Potter asked.

Severus paused. _Jane Eyre_ happened to be one of his favorite books, if only because it did not follow the stereotypical happy ending, and its characters were flawed and human. But he did not want to share something so…personal with Potter. He nodded.

"I like it too. Jane is endearing and it has an interesting plotline." He paused. "Mr. Rochester is cool, too. He kind of reminds me of you."

Potter looked at him carefully as though expecting him to explode. But Severus merely nodded. He was quite familiar with the book and could see similarities between him and the character.

"Yeah," Potter continued contemplatively, "you're both kind of…enigmatic. Like you have some good and bad qualities." He pursed his lips and looked unbearably foolish. "You're both…_mysterious_." Potter wiggled his eyebrows.

Severus could not help himself. A small snort escaped from his lips, but it was not malicious or derisive. Potter had merely looked so…amusing when he said that.

Not amusing, Severus told himelf. Foolish, idiotic, and juvenile.

"You just laughed at my joke." Potter said, his eyes wide.

"I did not_ laugh_, Potter," Severus said scathingly, composing himself. "I was merely scoffing at your idiotic expression and childish tone of voice."

"No, you laughed." Potter disagreed. Severus scowled and they continued to eat in silence. Once again, Potter cleared the dishes when they were both done. Severus, admittedly, was completely surprised at the boy's manners and sat rather awe-struck, though with his usual impassive mask on.

Potter turned around and suddenly looked apprehensive. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You can, but I might choose not to answer."

"Right." He looked outside. "Well, I know you said I couldn't go outside, but it's a really nice day outside and…erm…can I go swimming in the lake?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. He had seen Potter in the Triwizard Tournament, the boy was not the most adept swimmer. Plus, if Potter swam that meant _he_ would have to go outside with him, and that would likely be a nightmare. Plus, couldn't the boy amuse himself reading?

But on the other hand, Potter hadn't been able to have much enjoyment for the past year, and had admittedly been an ideal houseguest since he had come to Severus's house. He supposed the boy deserved to spend some time outside.

Before he could ruminate further, Severus stared pointedly at Potter and mumbled, "Fine." Potter's face became delighted, but Severus held up a hand. "You're only going to be able to swim out so far, and I'll have to go with you." Severus made a face at the last part, but Potter looked even more delighted.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "I'll go put on my swimming clothes and I'll be back in five minutes."

Severus sighed and went into his own room to put on a bathing suit. Truth be told, he enjoyed swimming in the lake himself during the summers; it was good exercise and often helped him clear his brain. Plus, he was always looking for new ways to challenge himself, and often tested how long he could tread water without stopping or how far he could swim underwater without breathing.

When he went back to the kitchen, Potter was already there, holding a towel and looking rather thin and undernourished in his swim clothes. Severus made a mental note to make sure that Potter was eating sufficiently; it wouldn't reflect very well on Severus if the already-thin boy was_ losing_ weight under his care.

Severus, grumbling, led the way out the back door and into the sand before the lake. He breathed in the scent of fresh, clean lake air deeply, gently placing his towel down on the sand, taking off his shirt, and crossing him arms as he looked at Potter, who had done the same.

But Potter was staring at Severus's upper body with confusion and…concern. "What happened to you?"

"What?"

"There are…scars, and cuts all over your body. Not from the snake." He clarified.

Severus looked away uncomfortably. He had forgotten, in his haste to get this swimming session over as fast as possible, that Potter would see the scars and tears on his body from abuse at the hands of his father and Voldemort. He quickly transfigured his towel into a swimming shirt and put it on.

"Were you in an accident?" Potter asked quietly.

"I was in several. And they were not all accidents." Severus said evasively.

Potter looked at him, and those damn green eyes widened in unmistakable pity. "Was it Voldemort? The Cruciatus?"

Severus nodded before he thought better.

"Is that why you move like you have joint pain? The same thing happened to Hermione. And it was only used on her once."

Severus looked up, surprised that Potter had noticed something so small. He nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry that happened to you." Potter said sincerely.

"I don't need pity, Potter," Severus responded tersely, but all the same, cocked his head in acknowledgement. "Now, let's go in the water. That was the purpose of this outdoor escapade, was it not?"

Quickly shifting gears, Potter deftly ran forward and waded into the gradually deepening water, splashing childishly and delightedly. Severus entered swiftly behind him, wading into the water until he couldn't stand, patiently treading water and feeling the warm sun above him.

He suddenly felt something tightly grab his ankle and pull him under the surface, but before he could do a nonverbal, wandless spell, he had been released and saw Potter's face grinning stupidly at him. "Gotcha," the insolent boy said.

"Don't do that again, Potter." Said Severus dangerously. Suddenly, Potter felt himself consumed by massive waves as Severus uttered a wandless spell that mimicked a small tsunami around Potter. Potter came up spluttering as Severus finally cancelled the spell, smiling maliciously.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a similarly playful manner, with Severus using wandless and nonverbal spells to nearly drown Potter, only to save him at the last minute. Instead of annoying the boy, as was the intention, Potter only seemed to grow more excited with each near-death experience. He continued to splash and spook Severus, who eventually grew less and less annoyed, strangely taking a small bit of pleasure from seeing the genuine happiness on Potter's face.

Merlin, where had that come from?

As the sun slid down the sky, and the day came to a close, Severus finally made to get out of the water and motioned for Potter to do the same. The two men emerged from the lake, sopping wet, and swiftly toweled themselves dry on the sand.

"Did you have fun?" asked Potter, putting on his glasses.

"_Fun_?" Severus mocked derisively. But seeing the slightly hurt expression on the boy's face, he softened his tone. "It was not as abysmal as I expected. Although you need to become much stealthier in your attacks on me."

Potter's face split into a wide grin. "That's practically a compliment, coming from you."

"It's not. And don't let it inflate your already enormous ego." Severus sniffed. "Come, wash up and I will make dinner."

The two men reentered the house, bathed and dressed in their respective rooms, and reconvened in the kitchen. Severus was pleased to see that Potter had gotten some sun and looked healthier and happier than he had seen him in a while.

Not pleased. Satisfied.

Potter was staring at Severus with something akin to wonder. "You don't look so…pale."

"What?"

"You got some sun today." Potter explained. "You aren't as pale as usual. You look healthier."

Severus frowned at him and opened the fridge, pulling out meat and vegetables for dinner, but Potter cleared his throat behind him.

"Let me do that." He said. "You were nice enough to let me go in the lake, I want to make dinner. But, erm, if you wouldn't mind, I was thinking I could make blackberry pie for dessert. I saw some blackberry bushes outside if you wouldn't mind, erm…picking some from them." He looked at Severus apprehensively.

Severus stared back. He did not like that the Potter boy seemed to be giving him an order, but on the other hand, he _was_ cooking the third meal of the day. And his telling Severus to pick blackberries was more of a polite request than order, Severus's sensible side pointed out.

"Very well." Severus said smoothly, transfiguring a plate into a basket. "I will return in ten minutes."

Potter looked momentarily surprised before nodding, giving him a small smile, and turning around to chop vegetables. Severus went outside through the back door, glorifying in the gentle breeze of a warm summer night. He turned left towards the thick forest behind him, walking slowly with his wand alit until he found the blackberry bushes.

He picked the blackberries quietly, strangely thinking of when he had done this with Dumbledore a few years ago. Ever a sweets lover, upon seeing the bushes, Dumbledore had suggested they make a pie to distract themselves from Severus's latest painful encounter with Voldemort. He had come to the thicket with Dumbledore, gingerly moving as his back was laced with painful lashes, holding a basket as Dumbledore picked the berries and hummed cheerfully. Although the scene had seemed so annoying and pointless at the time, upon rumination, Severus realized that Dumbledore's actions had been a paternal way of taking care of him. Now, Severus realized with a start, Potter was doing a bit of a similar thing.

Suddenly, Severus heard a loud hiss and turned around to see an enormous snake, its green eyes large and its lengthy tongue sticking out dangerously. It slithered towards Severus, who knelt rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear, unable to stop thinking of Nagini and his near-death experience. His wand lay forgotten and useless in his pocket, and as the snake came closer, these were surely the last moments of Severus's life, and he had been saved only to die again…

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" someone screamed, and the snake fell paralyzed to the ground, unmoving. Severus stared at the beast, his heart thumping wildly, and felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He did not shake it off.

"Are you okay, sir?" asked Potter concernedly, kneeling down beside Severus.

Severus took a moment to compose himself and slowly pulled himself from Potter's grasp. "I am fine." He said loudly, pulling himself up.

Potter stood up as well, picking up the forgotten basket of blackberries from the ground. "Let's go back inside. The food is ready."

Severus stared at him. The boy was not going to make a derisive comment about how he had become immobilized, was not going to mock him for being so cowardly? Severus felt himself speak before he could think. "Thank you." He muttered softly. He looked up to see Potter staring back at him with a small smile.

"You're quite welcome, Snape," he responded softly.


	11. Pictures

Harry and Snape walked quickly back up the stairs before Snape turned back suddenly and walked towards the Petrified snake. He mumbled a spell quietly and the snake disappeared from the spot with a whiff of smoke.

"What did you just do?" asked Harry, aghast.

"I did not kill it." Said Snape, annoyed. "I banished it to another forest."

"Okay," Harry muttered as they walked through the door and into the warm kitchen. He did not know why, but the thought of Snape killing the snake distressed him.

"I made stir-fry," He said unnecessarily as he put down the blackberry basket on the table and passed a plate of dinner to Snape. The man looked down his hooked nose at the food and said nothing, but did cautiously begin eating, without doing that stupid diagnostic spell.

"You're sure you're okay, sir?" asked Harry.

Snape glared at him. "I am fine, Potter."

Harry frowned. "Don't think that I thought you were…weak, or that I pitied you or anything. It's completely understandable after your ordeal with Nagini…" He rather smiled at the thought of Snape cowering from something in fear. "The idea of thinking you weak is laughable. You're the bravest man I know."

Snape opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. Seeming unsure what to say, he dove into the stir-fry with ferocity. Harry finished his and started to make the blackberry pie, smiling a little at the thought of himself in Snape's house, cooking a pie. The idea would have seemed so ludicrous a year ago, but now it was reality.

Thankfully, he had located Snape's owl earlier and was able to send letters to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny to them know of his whereabouts. Strangely, though he missed his friends deeply, he was not despising the time apart as much as he thought he would. He wondered what they would think of the arrangement, if they would be scared of Rudolphus Lestrange. He noticed that Snape didn't get the Daily Prophet, which he personally thought was a wise decision, but he did wonder if he was on the cover among speculation over where he was. He wondered if people would think it strange he was staying with Snape.

Snape distracted Harry from his thoughts by bringing his empty plate to the sink and washing it quietly. With his sleeves rolled up, his Dark Mark shone oddly against his pale skin.

"Do you think that will fade?" asked Harry, gesturing at Snape's forearm.

Snape glanced up and swiftly recovered the tattoo, glaring distastefully at Harry. "I hoped so." He said bitterly.

"How did you get it?" asked Harry curiously.

"A spell." Snape said vaguely.

"Yeah, obviously I know it was a spell," Harry said, irritated, "Was it Dark Magic? Did it hu-"

"Shut up, Potter." Snape said loudly, his tone angry. "I do not have to answer these foolish personal questions."

"You did yesterday!" said Harry angrily.

"Yes, in a severe lapse in judgment-"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "It was good for you to say that stuff, you clearly haven't talked about it and I think it would help-"

"Stop assuming the role of a psychologist, Potter!" Snape hissed. "I should not have spoken to you yesterday, those were personal topics –"

"No, it was good! I appreciated it, I thought you were finally opening up and I want to continue that-"

"Why, Potter?" asked Snape sarcastically. "Why do you want me to "continue" to "open up"?"

"Because I want you to be happy!" shouted Harry, his arms crossed fiercely. "I don't know why you're so determined to make your life miserable, what you did was nearly eighteen years ago and it's just so stupid-"

Snape's face flared with real anger. "Do not call me stupid, Potter." He said dangerously.

"I'm not calling you stupid," said Harry, exasperated, "I'm calling your actions stupid!"

"SHUT UP, Potter!" Snape bellowed.

"FINE!" Harry yelled back, slamming his fist on the counter. "You make it so effing difficult to help you! I thought we were making progress, but evidently not. Here is your bloody pie." Harry snatched the pie from the oven, setting it down aggressively on the counter and, spinning around, strutted upstairs.

He was trying to help Snape. He really was. And he had thought, between the talk last night and swimming and even Snape's gratitude with the whole snake encounter, things were progressing. He was at least seeing a side of Snape that was human and relatable, not so unflappable and unemotional at all times. But apparently not. Harry sighed. Scanning the sky for Snape's owl with replies from his friends, he saw nothing but stars against a black backdrop. He sighed again.

He sat down on the bed and tried to abate his anger by reading _Jane Eyre_. But even the young woman and her adventures with her strangely-named cousin couldn't keep him awake tonight. He drifted slowly off into a restless sleep.

He was kneeling next to them, sobbing as he looked despairingly at their lifeless faces. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny lay motionless on the grass in the graveyard, a white-faced, snake-like creature poised above them, cackling madly and wielding his wand like a sword.

"You could not save them, Harry Potter!" Voldemort exclaimed gleefully, his red eyes alight with malice and joy. "You could not save anyone, and now you cannot even save yourself!" He raised his wand and suddenly Harry saw more images of dead bodies; his father, splayed out in the hallway; his mother, her red hair contrasting with the blue rug of the nursery; Sirius, the ghost of a smile on his dead face-

"Potter!" Harry heard an annoyed voice yelling. Was it Hermione? He remembered she had always comforted him after nightmares when they had been on the run. But that voice sounded much deeper.

"Potter, snap out of it." The voice was speaking again but Harry knew he was screaming, the images of corpses still fresh in his mind. He felt a strong hand roughly grasp his forearm; it definitely wasn't Hermione. Maybe Ron? But there was something different about that voice…

After a few more agonizing moments Harry allowed the coaxing voice to break him from his nightmare. Opening his eyes infinitesimally, to his surprise, he saw Snape standing next to the bed, wearing green pajama bottoms and a black long-sleeved shirt. He looked annoyed, but when Harry opened his eyes, relief was evident on his face.

Harry scooted backwards in bed, breaking free of Snape's grasp. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"You had a nightmare." Snape stated. Harry nodded, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

Snape shook his head minutely. "Nightmares are not a crime."

Harry avoided Snape's gaze. He had been so infuriated with the man earlier, but now he was standing before him, wearing his pajamas, and though he had probably been rudely woken up, he did not look angry or annoyed. And, he had just helped Harry when he could have left him to wake up himself.

"Did you put up a Silencing Charm last night?"

Harry paused. "I actually slept okay last night," he admitted. "Your, erm, piano playing…I think it relaxed me. But yeah, at Hogwarts I have been. I don't want to wake anyone up."

Snape suddenly looked very tired and ran a hand over his face. He was wearing his glasses, but they were rather crooked, as though he had put them on in a hurry. The idea made Harry feel strangely warm.

Harry settled back in the pillows. His sheets were drenched in sweat; he felt clammy and slightly nauseated. He closed his eyes.

"You look pale." Snape stated. His expression was indecipherable, but betrayed a hint of concern. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it. His hand came up slowly from his side and Harry stared at it, confused. Snape hesitated momentarily and then pressed his hand to Harry's forehead, checking for a fever.

Harry closed his eyes at the touch. Snape's hand was softer than he had expected, and warmer. He had always expected the man to be ice-cold, but strangely, he radiated heat.

The motion was no big deal, Harry was sure Snape had done it whenever he helped out in the Infirmary like Madame Pomfrey had said, but still. It was something a parent would do for a child, and was almost comforting. Harry had never had never been properly taken care of, unless you counted Hermione, but she was only Harry's age.

Snape pulled his hand away. "I do not believe you have a fever. You are just shaken from the dream." He paused and stepped back, bending down to pick up the fallen _Jane Eyre_, and placed it on the bedside table. "Come downstairs." He ordered, sweeping out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

Harry sighed. It seemed like Snape was in a better mood, but this little midnight discussion would probably end in Harry being punished for yelling at Snape earlier. He pulled on his bathrobe trudged downstairs, wearing his slippers.

He entered the kitchen, but Snape was not there. He was surprised to see the blackberry pie, still whole, sitting on a glass platter. Harry wondered if Snape no longer trusted his cooking.

He was surprised to see, through the door, Snape sitting at the couch holding a steaming mug of tea in front of him, staring out at the black, moonlit lake. Another mug was placed on the table.

Harry grabbed the other mug and gratefully drank, settling into the chair next the couch.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier." Harry said, breaking the silence. "I shouldn't have pried into your life, it's not my business, and it won't happen again." He looked up wearily, hoping Snape would accept his apology, trying to maintain the fragile truce they had built.

But Snape was looking at him strangely. "Why is it that all you ever do is apologize, Potter?" But his tone was not malicious or sarcastic. He seemed genuinely curious.

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure. It's a reflex."

Snape seemed satisfied with that and took a long sip of his tea. Harry expected him to next discuss his punishment and tensed, bracing himself.

But what Snape said next shocked him. "What happened in your nightmare?"

Harry paused briefly, considering if he should be honest. It had been very personal, but then again, Snape had shared some private information with him the previous night. "I saw all my friends dead. Voldemort killed them, because I failed to save them."

"Who?"

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny. And then…then I saw all the people that had actually died. Sirius…my parents. In my house." A brief hint of pain flickered through Snape's expression, but it was barely noticeable.

"Where were you?"

"The graveyard." Harry said. "The one where he came back, that night in the Triwizard Tournament. You…you went there that night, right?" Snape turned his head slightly to look at Harry. "Sorry," Harry muttered, "you don't have to answer that. It's personal."

"I have been to the graveyard, Potter." Snape clarified.

"You weren't there, though, when he was torturing me?"

Snape shook his head. "I was at the tournament, Potter. I could not so easily have told the staff, students and families that I had to go as Lord Voldemort had returned and was summoning me with a Dark tattoo on my arm."

"But later," Harry said, remembering, "Dumbledore asked if you were prepared, and you said you were. I remember that clearly."

"Interesting, the things your brain chooses to remember." Said Snape speculatively, but without malice or derision. His tone was almost teasing. Harry snorted.

"Anyway…it was at the graveyard, and they were all just lying there, dead." Harry said, sobering. "It was the worst feeling in the world, knowing I hadn't been able to save them."

Snape looked back at the lake and Harry suddenly realized what he had just said. He internally smacked his palm on his forehead. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean-"

"Stop apologizing, Potter." Snape said quietly. "I asked you about your dream. Please disregard any implications it could have on my own feelings."

"It was the worst feeling I have ever felt." Harry said. "That's why…that's why I was screaming. The pain was unbearable."

"Worse than the Cruciatus." Snape muttered in spite of himself, clenching his fists.

Harry felt his heart melt a little for Snape. "Can I say something, sir?"

"Well, I cannot stop you."

"No, can I say it without you getting mad."

"Spit it out."

Harry took a deep breath. "My mother would have forgiven you, there is no doubt in my mind. She would have forgiven you for giving the prophecy to Voldemort, for becoming a Death Eater – all of it. Because look at what you have done, you have more than made up for it." He looked at Snape hard, who did not break eye contact. The black orbs looked profoundly sad. "I don't know what happens after you die. I don't know why, but I have a feeling people stick around. At least, I hope they do. And I think that one day you'll see my mum again, and she'll tell you all this herself. And hopefully…hopefully then you'll stop being in so much pain." Harry paused. "And hopefully I'll see her too." He added as an afterthought.

Snape just stared at him with those profoundly sad eyes. Harry did not think he had ever seen so much emotion in a pair of eyes before. He took a sip of his tea, which immediately warmed his chilled body and cleared his head.

"Would you like to see pictures?"

Harry looked up in shock at Snape. Had he heard correctly? "Pictures…pictures of my mum?"

Snape nodded. "I only have a few, but –"

"I would love to." Harry said immediately. Snape nodded, hesitantly got up, and went over towards one of the bookshelves. He took out a small box at the bottom of it, pulling out a dark blue album. He went back to the couch, motioning for Harry to sit next to him.

"She made this for me when we were fourteen." He said, fingering the cover delicately. It had a picture of a much younger and happier Snape, wearing his Hogwarts robes, and a younger Lily, her bright red hair shining in the sunlight. Snape was imitating someone, his eyebrows shooting up theatrically, and Lily was hysterically laughing. They appeared to be sitting on one of the low walls in the Hogwarts courtyard. Harry took the book gently in his hands and traced the embossed cover gently. _For Sev_, it read in gold lettering. _Love, Lily_.

He flipped through the book slowly, savoring each picture, acutely aware of Snape doing the same thing beside him. Most pictures were of Snape and Lily together, but some were solo shots that the other had taken. He laughed aloud when he saw one of Snape standing next to a perfectly formed snowman wearing a black scarf, black hat, and with black buttons in its middle. His heart hurt when he saw one of his mother in the library, studying intensely and looking strangely like Hermione. His eyes pricked with tears every time he saw one of Snape and Lily together laughing – his mother had looked so beautiful when she laughed, and Snape's face came alight, making him look like a different person. Nobody looking at these photos would ever know the tragic lives both children would end up leading, the vicious secrets and struggles that would tear them apart.

After what seemed like a great while, Harry closed the book gently, stealing a glance at Snape, whose eyes appeared a little glassy. Harry's own eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you." He said sincerely. "That was…very special. I loved the pictures. Thank you for sharing it with me."

Snape nodded and glanced out the window again.

"I know we can't do it tonight, but…could we talk about her some time? If you can?"

Snape hesitated and then nodded minutely, biting his lip ever so slightly. Harry stole another glance at the book's cover.

"You know the Mirror of Erised?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at him curiously. "Yes."

"I saw her in it. With…my dad." Harry cleared his throat. "When I was eleven. Dumbledore told me how unusual it was that I would see such a thing…not riches, or glory, or any of that. Just love."

Snape did not respond, but stared out the window.

"I wasn't saying that so you'd tell me what you saw in the mirror." Harry clarified. "That's just the first time I ever saw her. It was weird, because you know, it was so real."

Snape was quiet for the longest time yet. He drained his tea and stared at Harry with those profoundly sad eyes. "I saw her too," He said softly.

Harry felt his heart melt a little again. He did not know how to respond, so grabbed Snape's hand momentarily and squeezed. Snape did not squeeze back, but also did not yank it away. Harry smiled a little and said, "Although the thought probably makes you cringe, we are more alike than I realized."

To Harry's surprise, Snape's lips lifted into a small smile. "That thought does horrify me. But perhaps not as much as it once would have."

Harry's eyes brightened. "I'm gratified to hear that you no longer harbor you gut-wrenching hatred of me. I imagine that was a little tiring." He smiled a little.

Snape was staring at him again. Perhaps at night the man's brain moved a little slower than usual, he thought.

"She would have been proud of you." Snape stated. "You are very much like her."

Warmth spread through Harry's body like wildfire. He opened his mouth to speak but found he could not. His eyes brimmed with tears, of both sadness and happiness, until he could not contain them and he gave a little sob. He tried to smile, to show Snape that these were not all tears of grief. "Thank you." He said softly.

This time when he reached for Snape's hand and squeezed, Snape squeezed back.


	12. Death

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews everyone! Also, sorry about the pancakes thing in chapter 10, I changed it to pudding to make it more realistic. I am American, and I realized belatedly that pancakes had never been mentioned in the books. I hope this suffices! Also, some of the information for this chapter on Patronuses I got from Pottermore, just an FYI. I hope you like this chapter, and please keep reviewing! Okay, enjoy!**

Severus squeezed Potter's hand tightly, surprising himself with the motion. What had come over him? But before he could pull his hand away, his thumb brushed over something jagged and raised on the back of Potter's hand. Bewildered, he let go of Potter's hand and instead grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand closer to his face for inspection under the moonlight.

"I must not tell lies." He stated. "Product of a blood quill."

Potter looked away uncomfortably. "Umbridge," he muttered.

"Dolores Umbridge?" Severus asked, his voice scathing. "Lines during detentions?" he asked, guessing. Potter nodded.

Severus let go of Potter's wrist and stood up suddenly, levitating the scrapbook back into the box on the bookshelf. He crossed his arms and looked squarely at Potter.

"You never told anyone." He said. Potter shook his head.

"I told Ron and Hermione," he said nervously, "but I didn't want to tell anyone of authority. If it ever got back to her, it'd show her I was weak, that I couldn't handle it. I handled it just fine."

Severus crossed his arms tighter. "Blood quills are illegal, Potter. They're very Dark magic."

"Yeah, I didn't think they were exactly encouraged for use in detentions." Huffed Potter, annoyed. "It was painful, but Hermione made Murtlap of Essence, which healed them considerably. And…they didn't kill me, right? So it's fine."

Severus held his arms even tighter, and then suddenly feeling exhausted, sat back down on the couch. "That toad is wretched." He said angrily. "Using blood quills on students…however, what was the lie you were accused of telling?"

Potter raised his eyebrows to signify surprise at Severus's use of "however", as if he had actually been untruthful, the blood quill would have been justified.

"I am not indicating that she was in the right." Said Severus. "Far from it. I am just curious what provoked her."

"I said in class that Voldemort had come back." Potter said tiredly, seeming to remember the incident with exasperation.

"I see." Severus cracked his knuckles, his hands white. "Well, it's no surprise that the woman was a blithering idiot. Dumbledore made me show her my Dark Mark repeatedly, but to no avail. She refused to believe what was right before, as only true fools do." His tone was edged with bitterness, remembering the memory with resentment.

Potter nodded and then bit his lip, tracing his own thumb over the scar.

"How many times did you write with it?" Severus asked.

Potter paused before answering, as though deciding whether or not to be truthful. "More than I can count." He responded honestly.

Severus felt vague surprise, and then a surge of anger for the bitch of a woman. He had always hated her, known she was capable of Dark magic, but using it on children…he stood up again. "She got what she deserved." He said angrily. "Let her rot in Azkaban." Potter nodded vigorously, and then yawned.

Severus felt a strange sensation wash over him as he saw Potter yawning, his eyes scrunching against his glasses. Although nearly eighteen, although all he had done and seen, he looked so vulnerable and childlike then. Severus realized that his face was not prematurely lined, as his own was, but instead unwrinkled and youthful. "You should –" Severus stopped, realizing his voice sounded much too soft and gentle, "go to bed." he finished more loudly and impassively.

Potter nodded again and stood up. "Thanks for the pictures. They were…great." Suddenly he looked sheepish, and Severus raised his eyebrows in question. "I know it's really late and you're probably tired…never mind. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Just say it, Potter."

Potter pursed his lips. "Would you mind playing the piano for a few minutes?" He wrung his hands together. "I think the music was why I didn't have any nightmares last night. It was incredibly relaxing…just for ten minutes or something. If you're too tired it's fine."

Severus nodded, moving towards the piano. As he shuffled the music around, he looked up to Potter's grateful face and said pointedly, "And don't put up a Silencing charm."

Potter nodded, a strange expression on his face. "I won't." He turned to leave. "Thanks, sir. I'll see you tomorrow." He padded out of the room and upstairs.

Severus forwent a farewell and began playing. He could barely see the notes in the darkness, but he had memorized the song long ago; it was his favorite of Mozart's. His fingers danced lightly over the keys, and he closed his eyes in memory of learning the song with his mother. Unbeknownst to him, upstairs Potter had fallen asleep almost immediately, his ears filled with the dulcet melody.

The next few weeks passed rather uneventfully for both Severus and Potter. The Aurors returned to say that the entire department was on the lookout for Lestrange, and they had a few leads, but no solid evidence yet. The wizarding world had been alerted to the situation, as Kingsley Shacklebolt had announced it, but people were not overly concerned. Their joy and relief over Voldemort's death could not be overshadowed by something so minor; the public did not believe Lestrange a threat, especially now that the Ministry had been reformed and revamped, as had the Auror department. People were concerned over Potter's safety, but most believed Severus a suitable protector until he was in the clear. There had been a great debate about it in the _Daily Prophet_, which Minerva had showed them disdainfully when she came to visit.

The other two parts of the Golden Trio, plus the Weasley girl, had also come to visit, after Severus had acquiesced, to Potter's apparent surprise. Severus had disappeared downstairs to work on his potion all day as he heard laughter and chatter from above him. Potter had made the mistake of telling the Granger girl about the potion he was developing, the one that counter-acted the effects of the Cruciatus, so she had come down to Severus's lab in a great rush of bushy hair asking if she could help. Severus had actually allowed her for a moment, only because he knew (grudgingly) that she was very intelligent and could help him with a slight obstacle he had run into. After an hour or so of debate, they had jointly found a solution, and Severus found himself actually appreciating her help. When the three had left that day, Severus actually smiled at her, and, at Potter's expectant glance, did a sort of odd head shake that was an attempt at a nod, to the two Weasleys.

With each passing day and week, Severus (grudgingly) found that more of his strictly-held beliefs about Potter had been egregious misconceptions. The boy was surprisingly helpful around the house, making meals as often as Severus did, and offering to clean whenever he had time. He was tolerably adept when Severus was tutoring him – which he did nearly every day – in almost all subjects. He was especially talented at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the two even dueled a few times, at which Potter was surprisingly skilful. Not even a third as skilful as Severus, which Potter had admitted, but still well advanced for his age.

Severus had also found himself, to his great annoyance and surprise, actually enjoying recreational activities with the boy. They swam quite frequently, which Potter said helped him sleep easier at night, avoiding nightmares. Severus privately shared this sentiment, though he would never tell that to Potter – he secretly put up Silencing charms around his bed, as he had for the past seventeen years, every night.

He also enjoyed cooking with the boy, not finding him to be as much a hindrance as he originally expected, and playing chess with him. Naturally, Severus beat him every time, but Potter seemed to get great enjoyment out of playing at all, and for the strangest reason, that gave Severus a bit of pleasure himself.

And that was the problem. Severus had been attached before, and would not allow himself to be again.

Now they were sitting at breakfast, eating eggs Potter had made, and they were discussing that day's lesson plan.

"You can produce a full-fledged Patronus?" asked Severus, surprised at Potter's previous comment.

"Yes." Potter said proudly. "I've been able to since the end of my third year."

Severus raised his eyebrows, shocked. "That is very advanced. Who taught you?"

"Remus. That was the year with all the Dementors, remember?"

"Oh, I remember." Said Severus darkly. That had been one of his worst years teaching at Hogwarts; already slightly depressed and miserable with life, the Dementors had only augmented his pain. He had barely slept that whole year, his nightmares had been so dreadful.

He brought himself back to the present, as Potter was looking rather concernedly at him.

"I had heard rumors you could do so," Severus commented, "but I admit, I was a bit incredulous."

"Well," said Potter easily, "I can show you later." He looked curiously at Snape. "When did you learn to produce one? I don't think they teach them at Hogwarts."

"I taught myself." Said Severus shortly. "When I was fourteen. It seemed, to me, useful as a method of communication, and a prudent weapon should I ever face a Dementor. I did not favor the idea of having my soul sucked out of me." He looked at his hands. "I did not, of course, use it until I defected from Voldemort. There was no use, and I did not want to arouse suspicion among the Death Eaters; none of them could produce one."

"You were the only Death Eater who could produce a Patronus?" asked Potter, shocked.

Severus nodded. "None had a need to, really. They could produce its effects using other methods. Also, it is rumored that if a Dark wizard tries to produce a Patronus, he or she will be devoured by maggots." He frowned distastefully. "So, yes, I was the only one."

"Wow." Potter breathed. "Was…was your Patronus always a doe? Since you learned the charm?"

Severus looked out at the lake. "Yes."

"It's funny, you know," Potter said, breaking Severus out of his reverie, "when you conjured that Patronus, in the Forest of Dean, and I saw it, I immediately felt safe. I s'pose I thought, when I first found out it was yours, that I felt safe because it was like my mum, but now I realize it was because you had always been protecting me." Potter looked up thoughtfully. "Were you there, that night?"

"Yes." Said Severus, rolling his eyes. "The night you dove into that frozen pool of water, I remember."

Potter smiled lightly at the memory. "That wasn't one of my brightest ideas, I know. But thankfully, Ron was there."

"Yes, thankfully," Severus muttered.

"Did you stay until I got the sword out? Ron said he thought he heard a noise in the trees." Potter asked. Severus stared pointedly at him.

"Of course I did, Potter. I was not going to let my efforts go to waste."

"Would you have saved me if Ron hadn't come?" asked Potter, suddenly intense.

Severus paused for a moment. "I wouldn't have had a choice. I would have had to drag you out of there." he said, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant thought.

"That would have freaked me out." Harry said seriously. "I still hated you then."

"I realize that. It would have complicated matters immensely, as I would have had to explain to you why I saved your life, and why I had given you the sword. Thus, I was immensely thankful when Weasley arrived, albeit appearing lost and confused, as usual."

Potter ignored the jibe at his friend and stared at Severus thoughtfully. "You know, it wouldn't have been so bad if I had known. I know why you wanted to keep me in the dark. But I bet this whole thing" he gestured widely with his arms "the entire war, everything, would have been easier if we weren't enemies. If I had known the truth, I wouldn't have treated you the same, even if you were as nasty to me as usual."

Severus ruminated thoughtfully. He had realized the truth of Potter's statement in the past few weeks; the boy was truly not so horrible, and perhaps Severus's past few years could have been better had he not hated Potter so much. He might have even been able to help him, in ways Dumbledore could not. He cocked his head in agreement.

"Well," said Potter brightly, standing up to clean both their dishes, "we need not dwell on the past. We are here now, and we can only move forward." He smiled slightly. "So, how about after we work on Patronuses for a short while, we go swimming? It's a beautiful day out. It would be a shame."

Severus looked outside and pursed his lips. It was a pleasant day outside, and if he admitted it to himself, he really did enjoy swimming, especially when he conjured small tsunamis around Potter.

"Fine," he grumbled, and as Potter smiled happily, Severus felt himself return a small smile.

What was he getting himself into?

After they worked on Patronuses – during which, Severus admitted to himself, he had been appropriately shocked by Potter's remarkable skill and talent – Potter had gone upstairs to change and Severus made sandwiches. He stood at the counter, feeling a strange sensation as he placed turkey on bread.

With a small start, he realized it was contentment.

He let that strange thought simmer as he saw his large gray owl flying towards the house. Figuring it was letters from Potter's friends, he opened his window and beckoned the owl inside. Glancing quickly at the letter, he realized that it was not for Potter, but said "Severus Snape" on the front in thick print. It was addressed to his address in Spinner's End; he always had his owl bring his mail from there, but rarely had any. His contact with the Muggle world was rare at best.

He turned over the letter with a small start and saw that it was from the prison.

His father.

Severus reread the brief letter several times before allowing himself to believe the words it said.

His father had died in the prison, of bone cancer.

Severus had known he had cancer, as the jail had sent him a previous letter about it, and in a rare moment of compassion, Severus had actually travelled to the jail to see his father. It had been right after he killed Dumbledore. Severus had stood in the door to the jail hospital, seeing his father simultaneously hooked up to machines and chained to the bed. He had looked weak and small, his hair gone, but the nose that Severus had inherited as hooked as ever.

His eyes had widened when he saw Severus, and he when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Severus." He stated. "Why are you here?"

Severus had entered the room, his impassive mask on and his arms folded tightly. How he had imagined a day like this when he was a child, one where his father would be powerless and Severus the stronger one. But now that it had come, he felt no sadistic pleasure. He only felt empty.

"I do not know." He finally said.

"How does it feel, eh? To be standing up there on your high horse, wearing those stupid clothes, while I'm here like this? Have you gotten your revenge?"

Severus had stared at him with disgust and loathing. Even on his deathbed, Tobias could still be cruel and cutting. But Severus had dealt with far worse, the weathered adult he was; the mean words would no longer send him crying in his room.

He looked at his father coldly. "They told me you are dying."

"So you decided to pay me a visit, did you?" Tobias sneered like his son. "How kind of you."

"I am not at all interested in being kind." Severus held up papers. "I had to sign papers. I am the only one listed as a contact for you. You are truly dying alone, Father."

Tobias shrugged indifferently. "I couldn't care less, Severus. Who would I want to have here with me? Certainly not you. Perhaps your mother, so she could fetch me some things…but she went and killed herself ages ago, didn't she?" He smirked.

Severus felt his calmness break like a damn. He strode towards his father's bed and braced his hands on the edge of the bed. He stuck his nose close to the one that so resembled his own, and stared into his father's dark eyes. "Because of you." he hissed ruthlessly.

Tobias's eyes turned dark. "Don't say that, you idiot boy." He hissed.

"Don't call me a boy!" Severus snarled, enraged. "She killed herself because you were a bloody awful husband, and father!" He took a deep breath to try to regain control. "I have…I have spent my entire adult life trying to be as different from you as possible, Father. To end up like you would be the utmost failure."

Suddenly, Tobias looked incredibly old, as though the cancer had aged him in those moments. Severus felt the most minute spec of empathy flicker inside him, but he pushed it down viciously.

"I agree with you, Severus."

Severus was bewildered. "What?" he hissed.

"I do not want you to end up like me. I spent the last twenty years of my life in jail and am now dying alone, in a prison hospital, chained to the bed." His face looked uncharacteristically serious. "I know you hate me, and I will not pretend to feel affection or any paternal feelings toward you, but I would not wish my fate on you."

Severus stared at his father, unsure what to say.

"I hope that you do not live and die as I did, Severus." Tobias's eyes were slowly closing, as though he were tired. But he kept them open to find Severus's hand. He took it in his own, neither gently nor nicely, but took it nonetheless. Severus stared down at the hand that had inflicted so much damage and pain on him as a child, but did not let go.

"Goodbye, Severus," Tobias murmured, his eyes drifting shut.

Severus did not speak for a long time. Hundreds of conflicting emotions fought for dominance across his face. Finally, he spoke. "Goodbye, Father."

He extracted his hand from his father's and placed it back on the bed. After a moment, he covered it with a warm blanket. With a brief glance back, he swept out of the room.

Unbeknownst to him, Tobias had woken at his son's final words to him. He watched the retreating figure with sad eyes, and fell asleep once more.

Severus now looked at the letter and placed it on the table next to him.

He did not know how to feel. Several emotions played across his brain, but the most prominent one seemed to be confusion. He leaned his head back against the couch cushion, closing his eyes and wishing he could forget.

"Snape?" he heard an uncertain voice ask. "Are you ready?"

Severus opened his eyes. He had forgotten about Potter.

Suddenly, he felt rage build inside him, one directed at his father, and his childhood, and even himself. He let it simmer as he stared impassively at Potter.

"No, Potter," he snarled scathingly, "we're not going_ swimming_ today. I am not your playmate, though you may think I am." He glared intensely, ignoring the rational part of him that was saying his anger was misdirected. "Go upstairs."

"What?" asked the boy, bewildered. "Why?"

"Do not question me!" growled Severus. "Why must you always be so insolent?"

"I'm not being insolent!" Potter shouted. "You're being totally unreasonable! What did I do?"

"Shut up, Potter!" Severus yelled back. This anger, the shouting, felt good. "Go upstairs!"

"No! Not until you tell me what's going on! Did something happen?"

"GO UPSTAIRS, POTTER!" Severus bellowed. "Unless you want to see me lose my temper!"

"As if I already haven't!" Potter shouted.

"Go upstairs, NOW, you bloody idiot. Get out of my _sight_!" roared Severus, practically shaking.

Potter opened his mouth to retort and then closed it, clenching his jaw and crossing his arms. "I'm so bloody sick of this!" he shouted, and stomped upstairs.

Severus sat back down, his heart racing and his pallid face suffused with color. He ran a hand over his tired face, over his dratted glasses, and surprisingly, fell asleep.

He woke several hours later, judging by the height of the moon in the sky. Severus felt lightheaded and slightly nauseated, probably from a combination of unchecked emotion and a lack of food. He stood up uneasily and looked outside, beckoned by the fresh air. He stepped out the back door and walked down to the sand.

He was surprised to see Potter standing there, clad in his blue pajamas and standing stiffly, with his arms crossed, staring at the full moon. Severus, after a moment's hesitation, went to stand next to him.

Potter looked to his side, surprised, but did not speak. The two men stood in silence for a while, staring at the bright moon, their clothes lightly ruffled by the summer night breeze.

Severus finally broke the silence by clearing his throat. "My father died." He said softly, keeping his eyes trained on the moon.

He felt no motion on the other side of him, and for a brief moment wondered whether it was a mistake to tell Potter the truth. But before he could ruminate further, he caught a glimpse of those damn green eyes, full of sadness, before he felt strong arms envelop his torso. After a moment, he realized that Potter was hugging him. His touch was hesitant at first, but became stronger, until he was practically suffocating Severus.

But Severus didn't mind. He had not been hugged like this in a long time, since Dumbledore had died. His arms came up hesitantly but then rested on Potter's back. At his touch, Potter sighed and his own grip became stronger.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and began to slide one of his hands up and down Severus's upper back, as if rubbing it.

Severus said nothing, but permitted a few of his tears to fall. Potter, feeling the wetness on his shoulder, intensified his hold on Snape and continued the patting and rubbing.

Severus closed his eyes and allowed himself to be comforted.


	13. Mixed Messages

Snape broke away first, but in a gentler way than Harry expected, and sat down on the sand, his face still tear-stained. He stole a glance at Harry and opened his mouth to speak. "For what the way I acted earlier," he said in a low voice, "please…forgive me. I was distracted and angry."

Harry tried not to register shock that Snape had actually just _apologized_ to him. He nodded casually. "Forget it. I understand."

Snape sat with his knees in the air, his long fingers steepled together tightly, his knuckles whiter than ever. From Harry's point of view, Snape's fingers were right under the full moon; it looked as though the man was trying to balance it.

"I should not care." Snape muttered, more to himself, it seemed, than to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "He was your dad. It doesn't matter how…bad he was." He shifted his gaze to the full moon. "If the Dursleys died, I would probably shed a few tears. He raised you, after all."

"Yes," said Snape, his tone angry and bitter, gesturing to himself, "and look at the excellent job he did. He created _me_."

"Snape," said Harry softly, moving a few inches closer, "stop speaking about yourself like that."

Snape said nothing and continued to steeple his fingers beneath the moon. Harry stared at the man, at his rigid posture and austere expression, and thought he looked like a statue. If only the naked eye could see the emotion churning inside him.

"Where was he?" asked Harry cautiously, after a few moments. "I'm assuming he wasn't at the other house."

"In prison." Snape said shortly. He paused. "I put him there."

"What?"

Snape sighed, but his annoyance didn't seem to be directed at Harry. "When anyone joined Voldemort's ranks, they had to perform an assigned…duty, to show their allegiance. Usually it was murder, sometimes torture." He paused. "Voldemort knew of my past, or rather, the similarities between his and my childhood. He detested his own father, a Muggle, and killed him. He assigned me the task of doing the same." His knuckles grew whiter. "I could not kill him. Despite everything, I could not utter the curse. I was too cowardly."

"Snape," Harry chided gently, "as I've said before, there is nothing cowardly in being unable to kill someone. It shows you have morals."

Snape cocked his head. "Nevertheless, I could not do it. I instead framed him for a crime and sent him to jail for life, so on the off chance that Voldemort ever looked for him, he would not find him. He deserved to be in jail, for all that he put my mother and I through when I was a child." He pressed his lips. "Voldemort believed me when I told him; I had already mastered Occlumency then. He never bothered to look for my father; he couldn't fathom why I would have any qualms about murdering him, and thus, there was no question in his mind."

Harry was looking at Snape in wonder. "You lied to Voldemort to protect your father."

Snape glanced sideways at him. "I didn't exactly protect my father, Potter. He rotted in jail for the past twenty years."

"But you still risked your own life, in lying to Voldemort."

"Do not misunderstand, Potter." Snape said. "I hated my father. Truly loathed him. He was a detestable human being, in all meanings of the word. I came incredibly close to killing him."

"Then…then why are you crying?"

Snape did not speak for a few moments, and appearing to give up on balancing the moon, dropped his hands to his sides. When he spoke, his voice sounded quieter, as though a child were speaking. "Because he was all I had left."

Harry felt his eyes well. "What do you mean?"

"Not in the familial sense, I suppose…my mother died when I was fourteen. I never had any other family." He paused. "But he was the only other person in the world with whom I had…a tie. First, my mother died, then Lily, then R-" He paused, making Harry wonder who he was talking about "and then Dumbledore…at my own hands." He finished disgustedly. "My father was the only one in the world with whom I had some sort of connection, even if he cared little for my existence." He rolled his shoulders, as though trying to appear casual. "Now that is gone."

Harry scooted up and turned around, so he could look Snape in the face. He bored his own eyes into Snape's dark obsidian ones, willing the man to believe the words he was about to say.

"Snape," he said softy, "you still have me."

Rain suddenly began to pour down, instantly drenching them both, but they stayed sedentary on the sand, sitting inches from each other, radiating body heat. And long after Harry had finally stood up and pulled Snape to his feet, and Snape had set Warming charms on both of them, and Snape had gone to the piano to play so Harry could sleep, Harry still did not forget the way Snape's black ice eyes had melted, ever so slightly, when he said those words.

The next few days passed rather uneventfully. Harry and Snape discussed Snape's father occasionally, though Harry never pushed him too far. These discussions inevitably led to more talk of the Dursleys, which rather exhausted Harry, and seemed to infuriate Snape.

They were discussing the Dursleys now, as they sat in the living room in late afternoon, another sunny day coming to a close outside the expansive windows. Harry had had scraped his neck and upper back on jagged rocks at the bottom of the lake; using one of his spells, Snape had pushed Harry to the bottom of the lake violently while they were swimming. When Harry had emerged to the surface, slightly dazed, bruised, and bleeding, Snape's face had whitened and he looked slightly alarmed. They had gone back into Snape's house quickly, where Snape had immediately gotten some dittany and bruise salve, and now they sat talking while Harry applied it on his wounds. Snape's face was still a little white, and he looked apologetic.

"I hated getting hurt when I was little." Harry was saying, removing his shirt to apply the dittany and salve. "It never became clearer to me than in those times that Aunt Petunia truly hated me."

"Why?"

"Because," said Harry, "she would fix me up, quickly and efficiently as possible, without touching me. She was so rough and methodical, like she was fixing a broken pipe, not a child." He sighed. "I watched the way she used to patch up Dudley, so gentle and caring, and I wondered why she didn't do the same to me. She used to wrinkle her nose, too, when she was around me. The minute she was done, she'd push me away and tell me to go to my cupboard. She was so disgusted." His face twisted resentfully at the bitter memory.

Snape pursed his lips, and to Harry's confusion and bemusement, stood up from his chair and came to sit next to Harry.

"Give me the salve. I'll do it." He said, with a strange expression on his face.

Harry furrowed his brow, but handed Snape the jar. The man dipped two fingers in and brought them to Harry's shoulder. With a gentleness Harry did not know he possessed, he delicately applied the salve and dittany thoroughly to all of Harry's cuts and bruises. As he did so, he lightly rested his other hand gently on Harry's shoulder.

Inexpressible warmth spread through Harry's body. The gentleness, the soft touch, was so foreign to Harry, at least from adults. And though Snape could have easily remained where he was, and Harry could have easily done it himself, he had wanted to show Harry he cared. Cared about him significantly more than Aunt Petunia ever had. Harry closed his eyes at the touch and sighed.

Snape brought his hands away when he was done, momentarily disappearing to wash them in the kitchen and put the medicinal bottles away. When he returned, his expression was inscrutable. "Better?" he asked briskly. Harry nodded.

Snape looked uncomfortable. Looking away from Harry, he said uneasily, "Forgive me for what happened. It was not my intention to hurt you, I assumed the bottom was sand."

Harry smiled slightly. "Snape, now it is _you_ who keeps apologizing."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps I should stop eating the food you cook. Those diagnostic spells may have to recommence."

Harry smiled wider. "For the record, I don't care about this." He gestured at his neck and then stood up, pointedly looking in Snape's eyes. "It was worth it."

He walked past, looking slightly bemused, and with a slight pat on the man's shoulder, walked upstairs to change for dinner.

Harry went to bed early that night, exhausted from the day, and slightly drained from medicine Snape had made him take for his wounds. He was on the edge of sleep, close to giving in, until Snape's piano playing abruptly stopped and he heard low voices.

Groaning with exhaustion, but overpowered by curiosity, he crept out of bed and to the top of the stairs. He could hear Snape's silky voice conversing with two other ones, one more high-pitched and one even lower. Harry almost instantly recognized them as those of Savage and Kelly. He crept down to the middle of the stairs, eager to listen.

"-perhaps, one of us," Kelly was saying. Harry strained to listen.

"I believe any of us would be happy to do so." Savage said. "I know how disagreeable you originally were, and I can only imagine that close quarters have done nothing to alleviate that. It's become apparent that the entire Auror department need not focus our sole attention on Lestrange at the moment, as the entire Ministry and wizarding world are."

"Also," Kelly added, "some of the Aurors live in large wizarding villages. Of course we wouldn't bring Potter out and about, but it would be good for him to immerse himself in our world at his age, don't you think? He's practically a celebrity. The whole world is dying to see him."

"Also, you both need to heal." Savage stated. "I doubt that being here together, isolated, is really conducive to that." He paused. "Plus, some of us have children of our own. We are very in tune to the needs of a boy like Harry."

Unseen in the dark corridor, Harry shook his head. Snape _was_ in tune to his needs.

"So, Severus, does that sound agreeable? We could pick him up tomorrow, once it's decided who will take him in."

Harry waited with bated breath. From what he gathered, it sounded like one of the Aurors wanted to take him in now, as they thought Snape didn't want him and also couldn't really do a sufficient job. But that wasn't true, was it?

Harry did not want to go with any of the Aurors. Though it sounded strange to admit to himself, he _liked _being here with Snape. The man was more than capable of protecting Harry, and though Harry was rather loathe to admit it, Harry enjoyed being in his company. He was actually quite decent.

And didn't Snape feel the same way about him?

"Well," Snape's voice started. Harry's heart thudded. "I suppose you are right. Return at noon tomorrow, he will be packed and ready."

Harry's heart sank and tears threatened to blind him. He slunk back up to his room, crawling into his bed, wondering why he had been so wrong, why Snape still hated him.

He woke the next morning with bloodshot eyes. He dressed robotically, looking around the room he had grown to love, knowing that come noon, he would be unwelcome there.

He trudged downstairs to see Snape sitting at the table, eating toast, with a plate next to him stacked with jam toast. He seemed engrossed in the book he was reading, but upon seeing Harry, raised his eyebrows slightly in greeting.

Harry did not greet him back, but instead sat down at his chair in stony silence.

"Potter," said Snape briskly, putting down his book and seemingly oblivious to Harry's icy demeanor, "I have something to discuss with you. Savage and Kelly came to visit last night after you went to bed."

Harry stared back at him coolly. Snape's brow furrowed as he continued.

"They suggested that one – "

"I know!" interrupted Harry, shouting. "I know what they suggested! That I go live with one of them!"

Snape nodded. "Does that arrangement sound appealing to you?"

Harry stared at Snape, dumbfounded. The man really _did_ hate him. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I be joking, Potter?" asked Snape. "You said you heard the conversation."

Harry's eyes widened. "Yes," he said icily, "I heard how readily you agreed!"

Snape looked bewildered. "Why are you upset?"

Harry looked back, shaking his head. "Forget it. I'll pack."

"No, Potter," Snape said, annoyed, "say it. Look at me."

It was those three words that broke the dam of Harry's anger. "I'm a bloody idiot!" He yelled furiously. "I thought – I thought you didn't hate me anymore! I thought that all that stuff – looking at the album, talking about your dad, even you putting that bloody salve on me – I thought it meant that you had stopped seeing me as my father!" He sighed angrily. "I was wrong. You took the first chance to get me out of here."

Snape shook his head lightly, understanding dawning on his face. "Potter, no, I –"

"NO!" shouted Harry. "I'm sick of these excuses! I thought you were a decent person, but you evidently don't give less than a rat's arse about me. I have tried, Snape, to help you, and I thought I _was_. But just like the Dursleys, you couldn't care less, and just like everybody else, you're_ leaving._" He stood up suddenly. "I'm going to go pack." And with that, he stormed out of the room and upstairs, anger and hurt fighting for dominance on his face. Hurt triumphed, and he sat down on his bed, wondering why the universe was so against him.

A few hours later, Harry was still on his bed, his blankets stained with a few tears. He had packed angrily, his trunk a haphazard mess, and was attempting to calm himself down by lying in bed until noon. He _certainly_ wasn't going to talk to Snape. Snape was probably downstairs, counting down the minutes until Harry left, cackling to himself about what a maudlin fool Harry was.

To his surprise, he heard a knock on his door. Were the Aurors here already?

He tried to straighten himself up, grabbing a book to make it look as though he were reading. "Come in!" he called.

But to his surprise, it was Snape who entered, his expression impassive but his lips pressed together tightly. Harry was struck by a sudden thought that Snape looked remarkably like Mr. Weasley at that moment, with his tall, thin build and glasses, framed by a doorway and wearing a slightly stern expression. He shook that thought and threw Snape a dirty look. "Go." He said venomously.

But Snape totally ignored him and came to sit next to Harry on the bed. "Potter." he stated, his voice soft.

Harry's eyes widened infinitesimally. Snape had never used that gentle tone, almost pleading. Against his better judgment, he met the man's black eyes.

"Please come downstairs." Said Snape softly. "We need to speak." He got up and, walking out the door, turned to Harry. "I made blackberry pie."

Harry looked at the ceiling. After that night with the snake, when they had looked at the pictures of him and Harry's mum, Snape had left the pie Harry made out without eating it. When Harry had questioned this, Snape had evasively said that eating a pie alone was depressing. Harry had vowed that Snape would never have to eat a pie alone again, especially because it happened to be his favorite kind.

And now the dratted man had made it. Grumbling about mixed signals, Harry trudged downstairs.

Snape was sitting at the table drinking tea. The pie sat untouched, next to another full mug of steaming tea. Harry sat down, quickly cut himself a piece, and began eating aggressively, stabbing his fork angrily.

"Potter." said Snape again, his eyes intently watching the boy. Disarmed by the odd tone again, Harry stopped eating and looked up at him.

Snape looked away uncomfortably. "I think you misunderstood my actions last night."

"No, I didn't." said Harry coldly. "You readily agreed to ship me off with one of the Aurors."

Snape cocked his head. "I did. I meant that you misunderstood my motivation."

Harry shook his head angrily, his eyes trained on the pie. "You don't want me here. It's not complicated."

Snape looked at him and steepled his fingers together. "Is that why you reacted so angrily this morning? Because you think that's true?"

"It is true!" Harry said angrily.

Snape shook his head distinctly. "It's not, Potter. Not at all." Harry looked up at him suspiciously, trying to read the black eyes.

"If you don't…_not_ want me here, then why did you agree?"

"I thought _you_ didn't want to be here." Snape said simply.

Harry dropped his fork. "What gave you that idea?" he asked sharply.

"Potter," said Snape exasperatedly, "you do realize you just defeated the greatest Dark wizard of all time? I realize you need to be under protection for the time being, but there is…there is so much out for you in the world. The entire world will bow at your feet." He said this honestly, without malice. "Why would you want to be here, with me?"

Harry suddenly understood. It wasn't that Snape didn't want him there, it was that he feared _Harry _didn't want to be there. Well, that couldn't be further from the truth.

"Look at yesterday." Snape continued. "I practically killed you. I am not fit to...watch over you like this. Not to mention, you would probably enjoy yourself more elsewhere. Somewhere with other children, or somewhere less isolated…" he trailed off, looking at Harry expectantly, as though daring him to disagree.

"Snape." Said Harry loudly. He had something to say, but he wanted to confirm his guess. "Do you hate me?" Snape shook his head quickly. "Do you…do you care about me?" Snape nodded quickly.

"That is exactly _why_ I want to stay." Harry said quietly. "Do you think any of those Aurors would play the piano every night so I could fall asleep without nightmares? And would they, when I do have nightmares, wake me up without being annoyed and bring me downstairs to talk and drink tea, to show me photo albums to make me feel better?" He paused and looked meaningfully at Snape. "Would they have put that salve on me, so gently, after I talked about Aunt Petunia avoiding touching me, just to show that they _did_ care?"

Snape did not seem to have an answer for this and took a long drink of tea. "I do not know." He spoke finally.

"And do you think any of them understand the war, and all I endured, as well as you do?" Harry asked. "_You_ are the best person to help me heal. You have already helped me." He paused. "And for the record, I care about you, too. A great deal. And, though it does surprise me, I have actually enjoyed my time here. I am not so eager for it to end, not until I have succeeded in setting one tsunami on you."

Snape actually smiled. Most people wouldn't have even classified it as a smile, it was so small, but Harry was floored by its genuineness, Snape's suddenly more youthful appearance. Harry continued. "That's why I was so hurt. I thought you didn't want me here."

Snape shook his head. "I do want you here. I have…somewhat enjoyed your company as well, to my great confusion and shock." He said pointedly. "I…I'm sorry you misunderstood my intentions."

"There you go, apologizing again!" exclaimed Harry playfully, clucking his tongue. "What are we going to do with you?" Then Snape actually laughed, the sound deep and rumbly, music to Harry's ears, and Harry joined in.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life and Savage and Kelly tumbled out gracefully, clad in their Auror robes.

"Mr. Potter!" Kelly greeted. "Lovely to see you. Are you packed?"

"Erm, actually," Harry said, standing up as Snape followed suit, "there's been a change of plans."

Harry gently placed his hand on Snape's shoulder, grasping it. "He's going to stay with me for the time being." Snape said.

"Really?" asked Savage, exchanging a confused glance with Kelly. "Did you decide this, Mr. Potter?"

"We both did." Harry responded. "When he's not chopping bits of me off for potions ingredients, Snape's not half-bad. So while I appreciate the offer of another Auror, please tell them I am happy where I am."

"You're sure of this, Severus?" asked Kelly, her expression bewildered. He nodded.

"Er, very well," said Savage uncertainly. "We'll, er, be in touch." He turned back to the Floo and after a moment's hesitation, Kelly followed suit. They both disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

"Chopping you up for potions ingredients?" Snape asked darkly. "I think they might have thought you were serious." He added thoughtfully.

"You would never cause bodily harm to the Boy Who Lived, would you?" asked Harry teasingly. "The entire wizarding world would be after you."

"Oh yes," said Snape, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "that would be dreadful, especially as it has never happened to me before." He smirked a little again, and Harry, in a great rush of affection, grasped Snape's shoulders and hugged him.

"What are you doing, Potter?" asked Snape, his voice muffled and annoyed.

"Snape, the Chosen One is hugging you, you ought to be honored." Harry teased, hearing Snape's huff. But then he started laughing, and after a moment's hesitation, Snape's own deep chuckling joined in.

Harry smiled in satisfaction at the sound of Snape's laughter. The man sounded _happy_.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was the longest one yet, I think. Also, we will find out later who the R- person Snape mentioned is (although it's pretty obvious). I will update in the next few days, hope you're all liking the story so far! **


	14. Nightmares

Severus stopped laughing after a few moments and pulled away, sitting back down to eat a slice of pie. Although Potter's unprecedented attacks of affection were not reviled by Severus, or even entirely unwelcome, he would never get used to the constant physical contact. Even when Dumbledore had tried to comfort him after particularly nasty Death Eater meetings, Severus had rejected the physical consolation. He simply was not a hugger.

The two men ate in somewhat companionable silence until Severus spoke. "I have to travel to Diagon Alley today." He stated. "I am in need of some supplies for the potion on which I have been working. I trust you will be fine while I'm gone?" Potter nodded. "And when I get back, we will work on Potions. Merlin knows you still need a little help in that area."

"I've gotten loads better though." Potter said through a mouthful of pie.

"Chew with your mouth closed, Potter." Severus said dispassionately. Potter swallowed. "You have improved somewhat since Hogwarts, but that is not saying very much." He allowed.

Potter pursed his lips. "Potions aren't extremely important in becoming an Auror."

"Yes, they are." Severus disagreed. "That is why I am helping you." He stood up to leave, cleaning his dish in the sink and grabbing a travelling cloak.

"I'll see you in a few hours, Potter." He said. "Try not to do anything foolish."

Potter smirked cheekily. "I'll try." And with a whoosh of Floo powder, Severus was gone.

SS

Severus returned only forty minutes later, after realizing all the ingredient stores in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were sold out of lavender at the moment, the one thing he needed. He sighed, knowing the potion would have to wait, and slipped off his travelling cloak. He made himself some strong tea to prepare to teach Potter potions – the boy was not unintelligent, but sometimes it really was trying – and went upstairs to find the boy.

However, he was not in his room. Bemused, Severus returned downstairs, passing through the empty kitchen, and found him in the living room, sitting on the couch reading.

No, not reading. Flipping through photos, with Severus's box next to him.

Anger coursed through his veins like wildfire. "PUT THOSE DOWN!" Severus shouted, enraged.

Potter looked up like a chastised child and quickly stuffed the photos back in the box. "I'm sorry." He said immediately. "I didn't know you were coming back so soon, I didn't want you to find out –"

"Find out that you were snooping through my private things?" Severus said dangerously.

Potter's face reddened slightly. "I was bored, Snape, I thought there might be more pictures of my mum – you showed me that album – "

"Yes, Potter, I did show you the album, it seems that was a great mistake!" Severus shouted. "Need I add, I showed you that album myself, on my own terms! There are personal photos in that box!"

"I just opened it!" Potter said hastily. "I only saw a few more of Mum when you were kids, and, er, some of Reg-"

"Regulus." Severus finished venomously.

Potter nodded nervously, trying to shove the box into Severus's hands. Severus instead levitated it with his wand and banished it to his own bedroom.

"You had absolutely no right, Potter." Severus said, practically shaking with anger.

"I didn't know you and Regulus were friends." Potter pleaded. "You mentioned something about him the other day and I was just curious – it makes me happy to know – "

"Happy to know that your mother was not the only friend I ever had, Potter?" Severus asked icily. He knew what Potter was thinking. "Go away, Potter."

"No, Snape, please, I'm sorry – "

"GO UPSTAIRS, POTTER!" Severus thundered. Potter glanced back uneasily, opening his mouth to say something, but then trudged upstairs.

Severus sat back on the couch, exhausted. He had had every right to get angry with Potter over snooping in his personal stuff, but perhaps part of his rage was unwarranted.

He hated thinking about Regulus almost as much as he hated thinking about Lily. Regulus had known him during the worst times, when his friendship with Lily had ended, when they both realized they could not handle the duties of being a Death Eater. Although his feelings for him were obviously different than those for Lily, Regulus had been a loyal friend to Severus, one of the very few people in the world he had ever loved. And while he had been somewhat prepared for Lily's death, Regulus's had come as a total shock. He closed his eyes in bitterness.

SS

He sat like that, frozen on the couch, for longer than he realized, replaying the bittersweet memories in his mind, not exactly asleep, but not exactly conscious. It wasn't until he smelled the pungent fragrance of beef that he broke out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw the black night sky.

"I made dinner." Said a voice. Severus looked up to see Potter standing in the doorway. "Please, come eat."

Severus did not get up. He was still furious with Potter, and was frustrated that he had reverted back to disliking the boy. He had actually enjoyed being on neutral, even good, terms with him, and now that was all gone.

Two hours later, Severus decided he was hungry and needed to eat. Potter must have given up waiting on him and gone to bed, hopefully. Severus stiffened at the thought of having to play the piano for the boy tonight.

He got up gingerly, making his way into the dark kitchen. Alas, Potter was sitting there, a full and steaming plate of shepherd's pie on the table next to him.

Upon seeing him, Potter immediately straightened up and looked directly at Severus. "I'm really sorry, sir. I was completely wrong to do what I did, it was childish, and it wasn't my business."

Severus opened his mouth to say something cutting but was rather disarmed by the raw sincerity of Potter's words. "It was incredibly juvenile." He said coldly.

"I know," Potter nodded. "Please don't be mad."

"I am mad." Severus stated, but sat down. "You broke my trust, Potter."

Potter looked appropriately ashamed. "I'm sorry. What will it take to earn it back?"

Severus paused. "Time." After a moment's hesitation, he hungrily devoured the shepherd's pie. As he expected, it was delicious.

He looked up to see Potter looking at him intently. "Sir," he began, "is, er…Regulus a sore subject? Like my mum?" Potter winced as though expecting Severus to explode.

"Potter," Severus hissed, "are you seriously pushing that far?" He looked at the boy in disbelief.

"I'm sorry." Said Harry immediately. "That was a stupid question. Just enjoy your food, I'll shut up."

They continued to sit in silence for several minutes before Severus finally spoke. "Regulus was my closest friend from Slytherin." He said shortly.

Potter's eyes widened at the admission. "I see, sir." He paused, biting his lip. "You know, er, that Regulus was good in the end, right? He died defying Voldemort."

Severus sighed. "You cannot assign labels like "good" and "bad" to people, Potter. Most are a mix." He said impatiently. "But I realize Regulus died in defiance of the Dark side."

Potter paused, as though debating whether or not to speak. He chose to. "Is that why Sirius and you hated each other so much? Because you and Regulus were friends?" Potter asked boldly.

Severus sighed, overcome with memories. "Shut up, Potter." He said, annoyed. "You should be happy you aren't being punished, don't start asking me personal questions."

Potter's face fell. "I'm sorry."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Severus wondered if, and hoped that, Potter would go up to bed. His presence was becoming a little tiresome.

But then he caught sight of those green eyes watching him, nervously, with a touch of defiance. He had not looked like that in so long.

"Your godfather's hatred of me," he began, and Potter looked up gratefully, "was borne of several things. One of them was that he believed that I "stole" Regulus from him."

"But that's stupid." Potter stated. "Why did he think that?"

"Regulus was a very impressionable young man." Severus said, remembering the eager, bright-eyed first year he had encountered. "He was already prejudiced with his parents' beliefs, and being in Slytherin only augmented those ideas. He fit in easily with the other budding Death Eaters, such as myself." His voice turned bitter. "Black believed I turned Regulus into a Death Eater. I did not, but I did not necessarily stop him either."

"What…what was Regulus like?"

Severus paused, sighing. "Regulus was not like the other Death Eaters." He said. "He did not find pleasure in torturing or harming other people. Although he was heavily indoctrinated in his parents' ideals, he never insulted my friendship with your mother as the others did. A bit like Draco Malfoy, Regulus carried a façade of meanness, but deep down, he had morals."

"He was your closest friend, you said, of all the other Slytherins?"

"Yes." Severus said. "As I said before, he did not insult or mock my friendship with Lily as the others did. And he never mentioned my half-blood status. And both him and I shared a certain…dislike for some of the more cruel Death Eater activities."

"How did he react when your friendship with my mum ended?" Potter asked quietly.

Severus paused, bitter at the memory. "All of the other Slytherins were thrilled. They thought my behavior was commendable, and were glad that I was "rid" of Lily." He pushed his empty plate away. "But Regulus…understood a little more. He understood the concept of love more than any of them ever did. And he never told anyone, though I think he did know my true feelings for your mother."

A sudden memory came to him. Shortly after the Mudblood incident, he had been sitting with Regulus at the Slytherin common table, eating breakfast, when James Potter had started motioning to Severus across the Great Hall, patting his head and pretending to lather it with shampoo, pointing to Severus to mock him. Before Severus could react, Regulus had stood up next to him and started pretending to comb his hair, pointing back at James Potter. Severus had been unable to stifle his laughter at Potter's surprised and affronted reaction. Regulus had sat back down and winked at Severus, darkly commenting that Potter was an arse. Severus could not explain how grateful he was, so he had merely nodded at Regulus, who smiled widely back.

"In our later years at Hogwarts, Regulus protected me from your father and the other Marauders." Severus stated now.

"He fought his own brother?" asked Potter quietly.

Severus nodded. "With appropriate provocation, yes." He paused. "That did nothing to alleviate the tension between Black and Regulus."

"Did Regulus hate Sirius?"

"No." Severus said. "He pretended to be ashamed of his brother's Gryffindor status, and to some extent that sentiment was probably genuine, but, for reasons I still do not understand, Regulus…loved Black. Losing his brother to the opposing side of the war was very difficult for him."

"That's why you were friends." Potter remarked thoughtfully. He paused for the longest time yet, twiddling his thumbs. "How did you feel when he died?"

"Devastated." Severus said simply. "It did not unhinge me as your mother's death did, as I had not caused it, but I still felt a measure of guilt. And losing him made your mother's death that much harder to endure, as I was alone."

Neither spoke for the longest while yet. The candles Potter had lit slowly burned to their nubs and the shepherd's pie was long gone. Severus realized, in the final dying flames of the last candle, that Potter's face was tearstained.

"I don't know how you do it." Potter said finally.

"Do what?"

"Live." Potter cleared his throat. "If I lost Ron, Hermione, or Ginny…and I had nobody to turn to…I don't know if I would survive it." Severus had nothing to say to this, and continued to stare at Potter. Eventually the boy got up, giving Severus a small smile, and bade him good night. "You don't have to play the piano tonight, I'm pretty tired. Just go to sleep." And he retreated upstairs.

Severus got up a few minutes later, surprised at how exhausted and drained he felt for sitting in a chair practically all day. He felt a small flicker of surprise as he realized that he had shared more with Potter that night, and all the other nights they'd been at his home, than he had with anyone else in his life, even Dumbledore. Although the boy was annoying and overly inquisitive, he was a strangely good listener, actually able to somewhat empathize with Severus's feelings. Merlin knew he still harbored negative feelings for the boy, but he did not mind speaking with him as much as he might have once thought. Lily had been a good listener, too.

He trudged up to his bedroom, and though he thought better of it, he took out a few pictures of him and Regulus together, smiling and unaware of the bleak futures that lay ahead of them. Severus fell asleep with tears running down his hooked nose.

SS

Severus woke to the sound of agonized screams. Groaning, shoving his glazes haphazardly onto his face, he tumbled out of bed and paced to Potter's room.

The boy was on his back, screaming and sobbing in agony, his sheets twisted and damp with sweat. Potter's face was tearstained and red, his grasping knuckles white and dripping with blood, as though he had bitten them.

Severus approached him, taking his shoulders and saying his name, cursing himself for not playing the piano. Potter had not had a nightmare in so long.

"Potter," he stated loudly, grabbing the boy's shoulders roughly. "Potter, it's a nightmare."

But minutes passed and Potter continued to scream, repeating the word "no" over and over, in crescendos of fear and intensity. Severus furrowed his brow, unsure what was trapping Potter in this dream, grasping his shoulders tighter.

"NO!" Potter screamed. "STOP HURTING HIM!"

Severus grasped Potter's shoulders until it was probably painful. The boy was probably dreaming about one of his friends, maybe the Weasley boy, or perhaps his dratted godfather. Severus frowned in distaste at that thought.

"NO!" Potter continued. "_STOP_! I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry, Snape…"

Had Severus heard correctly?

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" bellowed Potter, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Snape, I'm so sorry…I couldn't save you…"

Severus shook Potter until the boy's eyes flew open. As they saw Severus, they widened in surprise and anxiety. Suddenly Potter grabbed Severus's shoulders roughly, staring at his eyes intently as though making sure he was really there.

"SNAPE!" Potter screamed. "He's coming after you! Voldemort is trying to kill you!"

"Potter, I'm right here. Voldemort is dead. You had a nightmare." Severus said, trying to make the deranged boy see reason.

Potter moaned as he stared at Severus, shaking his head. "Snape, no, Voldemort wants to kill you, I couldn't protect you, I'm so sorry, I tried so hard…"

Severus did not know what to say. Why would Potter be dreaming about _him_? He grabbed the boy's hands and squeezed, trying to return him to reality.

After a few moments Potter's eyes returned to their normal size and he seemed to regain his sanity and consciousness. He took one look at Snape and began crying, taking the man's hands and squeezing them tightly.

"I thought you were dead," Potter sobbed. "Oh, Merlin, Snape, you're alive…I dreamt he was torturing you and I was chained to a tree, I couldn't help you…it was agony….I'm so sorry…"

"Harry." Snape said quietly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Potter looked up in surprise at Severus's use of his first name. This seemed to make him more emotional, as his eyes grew glassier with tears. "I was so scared." He said quietly. "I didn't want to lose you."

Severus reached out to squeeze Potter's shoulder reassuringly, unsure how to provide comfort, but Potter instead pulled Severus to him, grasping his shoulders tightly. As his body shook against Severus's, the older man patted his hand awkwardly on Potter's back.

Potter eventually pulled back, having composed himself.

"You called me Harry." He stated.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I did."

Potter stared at Severus intently, as though trying to determine if he was really there. "I like that." He paused. "Can I call you Severus?"

Severus felt a flicker of surprise. Months ago, that question would have sent him into a rage, especially from a student. But now, looking at the boy who had just been agonized over the thought of Severus being tortured and killed, it only seemed natural to accept.

"If you wish."

"I do wish." Potter nodded. "I'm sorry I woke you up again. Thanks for, er…helping me."

"I didn't really help you," Severus admitted. "You stayed in the nightmare longer than usual."

Potter stared at him with a strange expression. "Well, it was traumatic. You were being tortured." Severus opened his mouth to speak but, at a loss for how to respond, closed it.

"Look, you need to go to bed." Potter said. "Don't play the piano, I'll be fine."

Severus shook his head. "I'll charm the keys." And with a flick of his wand, the melodies of Mozart were instantly heard.

"Why don't you always do that?" Potter asked.

Severus paused, deciding whether or not to be truthful. "I like the feeling of helping you." He said simply.

Potter's face broke into a smile. "Have a good sleep, sir."

Severus got up and walked to the door, pausing on the way out to make sure Potter was actually going to fall asleep. "Good night, Harry."

SS

The next morning the two sat at breakfast, eating porridge. Both slightly exhausted from the previous night's events, they were drinking multiple mugs of tea with bleary eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" said Potter.

"You always say that." Said Severus, half-irritated, half-amused. "Just ask the question, and I will deem it worthy of a response or not."

Potter paused. "Why didn't you ever marry?"

Severus paused eating. "Don't you know the answer to that?" he asked scathingly.

"I know, my mum and all, but did you ever consider finding someone else? Someone you could settle down with?"

"My lifestyle isn't really conducive to that type of relationship, Potter." Severus said, annoyed. "I did my…experimenting during my Death Eater days, but I never found someone like your mother. I did not want to trap myself in a loveless marriage."

Potter nodded as if in understanding. "Well, I think it's a bit of a shame."

"Why?"

"Not that you didn't find a wife, necessarily. Just that…did you ever consider having kids?"

"No." Severus answered honestly. Curiously, Potter's face fell a bit. "You are disappointed." Severus stated, confused.

Potter shrugged. "I just think you would have made a good dad."

Severus practically snorted on his tea. "Did that nightmare make you ill, Potter?"

"No!"

"_Me_, a good father?" Severus asked incredulously.

Potter frowned. "Well, yeah." He said, as though it were obvious. "Perhaps you would be a bit strict, and your kid might only dress in black, but yeah. You have all the qualities."

"I would be a terrible father." Severus stated. "Look at the example I had, of my own father. I wouldn't know the first thing."

"You aren't your father, Severus." Said Potter softly.

"Look at how I treated students as a teacher." Severus said wryly.

Potter cocked his head in agreement. "I cannot dispute that. You were, forgive me, an absolute git in class." He smiled slightly. "But you're different here. If it was your own kid, I know you would be decent and good." He frowned. "I just wish you were more, er…open to the idea."

Severus knitted his eyebrows together. Why did he need children? He had Potter, and he was satisfied with that.

Merlin, where did _that_ come from?

SS

A couple hours later as the pair sat reading, Severus saw his owl out the window bearing a letter. He let her in, surprised to see that the letter was addressed to him in familiar handwriting.

He read the letter twice, ignoring Potter's curious gaze. He put it down, staring out the window.

"Who is it from?" Potter asked quietly.

Severus straightened up, staring out the windows at the lake, his voice stiff and quiet.

"The Malfoys are coming to visit."

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I tried to incorporate some of the comments from reviews. Thanks for the reviews, by the way, you are all awesome! Please keep them coming, I love to hear your thoughts, good or bad! Next chapter we will see the Malfoys come to visit Harry and Snape, should be interesting, stay tuned! Should update in the next few days. **


	15. The Malfoys

Harry stared back, confused. "Why would the Malfoys visit?"

Snape looked out the window. "They heard you are staying here. And would like to speak with both of us."

Harry narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "Could it be a trap? What if…what if they're plotting with Rudolphus?"

Snape narrowed his eyes too, as if he were considering the thought, but his expression cleared after a moment. "I doubt it." He said. "Lucius and Narcissa escaped Azkaban by the skin of their teeth, they are not foolish enough to risk anything. And quite frankly, with Voldemort gone, they have no motivation."

"But why would they want to talk to me?" asked Harry.

"There is likely an ulterior motive, some selfish intention." Snape mused thoughtfully. "But I highly doubt that they are dangerous. I do wonder, however, why they have not invited us to _their_ house. Why would they prefer to meet at my house in Spinner's End than the manor?" He asked rhetorically.

"I don't want to go the manor." Harry said quickly. "Did you hear about what happened there? I was locked in a basement, Hermione was tortured…no way am I going back there."

"Perhaps that is why they have not invited us." Snape said.

Harry snorted. "You think they're that thoughtful?"

"If they want something from you, then yes." Snape answered knowingly. He ran a hand tiredly over his face. "They're coming at six tonight. I'm not showing them this house; we'll have to go back to Spinner's End and clean up a bit." He looked heavily annoyed, scribbling back a note in untidy scrawl and muttering under his breath about being inconsiderate and intrusive.

HP

Harry and Snape stood in the kitchen preparing dinner together. Harry was dreading seeing Malfoy; although the two had been mortal enemies from their Hogwarts days, Malfoy had sort of saved his life at the manor, and Harry his in the Room of Requirement. That, coupled with Malfoy's complicated participation as a Death Eater, would surely make for very awkward dinner conversation. Not to mention, Harry rather disliked both the boy's parents, although Lucius more than Narcissa.

Then there was another nagging worry at the back of Harry's head that Hermione would have told him was totally irrational (he had owled Ron, Hermione, and Ginny telling them about the Malfoy's impending visit, asking for advice, but they hadn't yet responded). Harry knew from his years at school that Snape had always favored Draco, and had almost had a godfather-like relationship with him outside of class. At that thought, Harry felt the slightest pang of jealousy.

"What do you think of the Malfoys?" asked Harry carefully, chopping carrots.

"That's a complicated question." Snape answered evasively.

"I mean, do you like them?" asked Harry, his eyes trained on the carrots.

"Lucius attended Hogwarts during my first three years there. Although many other Slytherins were disdainful of my blood status, Lucius was never unkind. He knew of my interest and knowledge in the Dark Arts, and aptitude for potions and charms. And of course, he saw in me a fierce desire to prove myself." His tone sounded bitter. "He became somewhat of a friend, introducing me to the circle of future Death Eaters and trying to advance himself by bringing me as a recruit. We became closer when we were both in service for Voldemort, and after his demise, as we were two of the few who were not put in Azkaban."

"So," asked Harry quietly, "do you blame him for you becoming a Death Eater?"

"That is why I said it's a complicated question, Potter."

"What about Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I have always liked Narcissa." Snape admitted. "Like Lucius, I met her when I was at Hogwarts. She has always treated me, if not kindly, cordially, unlike her sister." Snape's face became twisted at the mention of Bellatrix, as did Harry's. "She is also much saner and less cruel than Bellatrix was."

Harry humphed. "She kind of saved my life."

"Ah yes, enlighten me of how that happened? I seem to remember McGonagall mentioning it."

"After I was, er, in that death-like state and all, I woke up on the ground in the Forbidden Forest, and Voldemort obviously thought I was dead. But he made someone check to make sure, and it happened to be Mrs. Malfoy. Within a second she knew I was alive, but then she asked if Draco was alive and in the castle." Harry said. "I said yes, and then she told him I was dead."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Had Voldemort survived, she would have been tortured endlessly and brutally killed for lying to him." He said seriously.

"I know." Harry said uncomfortably. "I s'pose it was brave."

"Narcissa cares deeply about her son." Snape said. "She was willing to refute Voldemort whenever his life was in danger."

"When else did she do it, besides then?" Harry asked curiously.

Snape suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Did it have to do with Draco having to kill Dumbledore?" pushed Harry.

Snape pressed his lips. "Yes." He paused, looking out the window, and explained, as if defeated. "After I was made aware of Dumbledore's deteriorating health, Narcissa approached me with concerns about Voldemort's plan for Draco, asking me to protect him." He paused again. "I made the Unbeakable Vow to carry out his plan."

Harry stared at Snape, the carrots forgotten. "Why?" he asked quietly.

Snape's voice grew softer and he paused before speaking. "I didn't think I would be able to kill him without the threat of losing my own life." He began to focus intently on stuffing the turkey, his movements aggressive and deliberate.

Harry did not know how to respond to this so he focused, too, on the cooking at hand. After a few moments he realized he had forgotten to ask about the final member of the Malfoy family. "And Draco?" he said carefully. "What do you think of Draco?"

"Due to my relationship with Lucius, I have always been expected to treat Draco favorably. I find him spoiled and arrogant, but he is a talented wizard." He looked at Harry strangely. "Truthfully, part of my affinity for him drew from his mistreatment of you. I liked the idea that not everybody was fawning over the new celebrity; I thought he put you in your place."

"He was unnecessarily cruel." Harry said angrily. "An absolute git, always taunting me, Ron, and Hermione-"

"I realize that now." Snape said tiredly. "It goes without saying that my sentiments have changed." Harry felt a slight warmth in his chest.

"What did you think when he became a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

Snape paused and a muscle in his jaw jumped, as though he were angry. "I saw it as a major failure on my part." He said through clenched teeth. "Through my years at Head of Slytherin I had become skilled at convincing my students to choose paths other than being a Death Eater, but with Draco, I couldn't. He did not listen to me."

Harry and Snape continued to cook in silence and when everything was ready, sat down in anticipation. Harry nervously strummed his fingers on his knees, while Snape looked impassive as ever. Harry wished he could have that composure.

Suddenly, Snape swiftly stood and announced, "They're here." Harry briefly wondered if he was clairvoyant, as he walked down the hall.

Snape opened the door and Harry was rather shocked to see all three Malfoys standing there, looking strangely out of place in their clothes against the bleak Muggle neighborhood. However, Harry noted that they looked slightly worse for the wear, and their expressions, though still slightly haughty, lacked their previous arrogance and unconcern. Snape's expression did not change as he gestured them inside.

"Severus," Narcissa whispered, and after a moment's hesitation, she hugged Snape. He returned the hug briefly, and then broke away and gestured them all into the living room. Draco approached him with an outstretched hand and Snape shook it, patting him on the back with his other hand. Harry avoided Malfoy's gaze, but he was staring at him as he took a seat on the couch next to Snape.

"Severus." Stated Lucius loudly. "I wish to speak with you. Alone. Perhaps…outside?"

Snape looked at Lucius coldly, a calculated look on his face. "Fine." He finally said, giving a pointed look to Harry and following Lucius out the door.

Harry heard Narcissa clear her throat across from him and finally got a good look at her and her son. Narcissa's long blonde hair was pulled into a low ponytail, streaked with a few silver hairs, and there were heavy lines on her forehead and around her mouth. Although she still retained her good looks, her face was free of makeup and she looked strangely overexposed. She was knotting her hands together as though nervous.

Draco sat next to her, and Harry was shocked to see how old he looked. Gone were his boyish good looks and bright eyes, replaced with heavy frown lines and a perpetually grave expression. He looked reasonably happy now, but as though he would never get over the trauma of the war.

"Potter." Narcissa spoke in her cold, clear voice. She pressed her hands tightly together, but was watching Harry with a strange expression. "Draco told me what you and your friends did for him in the Room of Requirement." She stole a glance at Draco and Harry was disarmed at how drastically her expression softened. She paused for a few moments. "Thank you."

Harry, shocked at her words, could only nod. "I wouldn't have left him there." He said finally, almost offended at the thought.

She was still watching him with that strange expression.

"I know." Draco said, his gray eyes boring into Harry's green ones. "That's why you're Harry Potter."

Harry did not know whether to be pleased or insulted by Draco's comment, but chose the former. "Well," he admitted, "you saved my life too, indirectly, when we were at your house, so, er… thank you for that."

"I knew you recognized him." said Narcissa to Draco. But strangely, she didn't sound angry or resentful. She put her hand over her son's and gave him a small smile.

Harry, slightly touched by the small show of affection between mother and son, began to speak slowly. "Also, er, Mrs. Malfoy," he said. "for what you did in the forest – I know it wasn't for me, it was for Draco, but still. I would likely have not survived if Voldemort had realized I wasn't dead; we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. What you did was incredibly brave." He paused, looking into her icy blue eyes. "So, thank you."

To his surprise, she nodded slowly. "You really are like they say." She said thoughtfully. Draco made a small, indecipherable noise behind her.

"Meaning I'm what?"

She hesitated, her icy eyes indecipherable. "Forgiving."

Harry, disarmed by her words, nodded and looked at the floor.

Draco, apparently too uncomfortable in the awkward situation, excused himself. "I'm going to go find Dad and Snape." He muttered to his mother, patting her on the hand and nodding lightly at Harry.

Harry and Narcissa sat in awkward silence until, surprisingly, she spoke. "How has it been living with Severus?" she asked in a surprisingly cordial manner.

Harry cocked his head. "It has actually been fine, sometimes even good." He looked at his hands. "Se- Snape is a good man."

"I know he is." She said. After a few moments, she spoke again. "I knew your mother when we were at school."

Harry, remembering Narcissa's disdainful treatment of Hermione for being Muggle-born, could not help the cold edge to his voice. "I don't expect you got on."

Narcissa shook her head. "We did not." She paused, looking out the window where Snape and Lucius were talking, Snape's arms folded as Lucius was explaining something with a pained expression. Draco stood nearby, taking in the neighborhood.

"Once," Narcissa said, a faraway look in her eyes, and Harry looked at her curiously, "when I was in my sixth year, I was alone crying near the Black lake. Bellatrix had sent me a Howler earlier that day, angry at me because she had heard that I defended our sister Andromeda to one of my friends. Andie was dating that Muggle-born at that point, and Bellatrix was furious that I would dare speak a good word about her." She paused, looking into Harry's green eyes. "Although I had never been anything but rude to your mother, she approached me, at twelve years old, and handed me a handkerchief."

"Did you take it?" asked Harry, curious.

"No." said Narcissa. "But nevertheless, she sat down." She paused, and to Harry's shock, the smallest of smiles upturned her lips. "She told me she had always admired my hair."

Harry laughed. "Did she say anything else?"

Narcissa's smile disappeared and her eyes became even more faraway. "She told me that I was brave for defending Andromeda, that I was a good sister. She said she had a sister too, and although they didn't always get along, she would always defend her. She said that I shouldn't listen to Bellatrix, that I had the potential to be a good person." She bit her lip and looked at the figure of her son outside. Her next words were so soft, Harry could barely hear them. "Sometimes I wish I had listened to her."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "Thanks for that," he said sincerely.

Narcissa nodded absentmindedly and sighed. "Look, Potter, the real reason I came here today is because I need your help."

Harry immediately stiffened. "What kind of help?"

"Nothing political, nothing law-related." She said, waving a hand. "You have already done that." She pressed her lips uncomfortably. "Am I correct in saying that you are the…godfather of the child of…Andromeda's daughter?"

Harry nodded. "Teddy." He narrowed his eyes. "How does this relate to you?"

Suddenly, Narcissa looked rather anguished. She started clutching at the end of her ponytail, her expression pained. She spoke softly, as though she could not believe what she was saying. "I would like to…speak with Andromeda." She licked her lips. "Reconcile."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I think that would be unlikely. Bellatrix killed her daughter, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I know, Potter." Narcissa said tiredly. "But Bellatrix was Andie's sister as much as she was mine." She rubbed her hands together. "I want to atone for my mistakes. I should never have cut ties from Andie like I did, and now that Bellatrix is gone, I see how wrong it was."

Harry paused but then nodded. "I will do what I can."

Narcissa regained her composure and threw her hair back behind her back. "Thank you." she said simply.

In perfect timing, Snape opened the door, trailed by Lucius and Draco. "Time for dinner," he said tightly.

Snape sat at the head of the table, with Harry and Narcissa on one side, and Draco and Lucius on the other. "Eat." Snape ordered and the four others immediately obeyed, eating noisily and quickly to avoid the stifling silence.

"This is delicious, Severus." Narcissa said. "I never knew you could cook."

"Potter actually made it," Snape remarked absentmindedly, as though distracted, pointing his fork at Harry.

Draco's head suddenly snapped up, his brow furrowing at Snape's nonchalant and almost complimentary tone towards Harry. Harry supposed this was appropriate, as all Draco had seen before was Snape acting cruel and vindictive towards him.

Naricissa and Lucius looked surprised too, though Narcissa quickly recovered and gave Harry a small smile.

Harry was watching Snape, trying to read his expression and decipher his conversation with Lucius had gone. Snape peered back intently, apparently trying to do the same thing.

"So, Severus," said Lucius in his deep, cold voice, "what are your plans for the fall? Assuming this arrangement" he jerked a thumb at Harry "is over?"

Snape chewed his food carefully and swallowed, pausing before speaking. "I am not sure." He responded vaguely.

"Are you considering returning to Hogwarts?" asked Draco.

"It is unlikely." Harry was surprised. "Although I have a strong affinity for the castle, it has some difficult memories, especially from the recent past. Perhaps I will return there eventually. But teaching was never my passion."

"You were a great teacher, Severus." Draco said, reminding Harry of their Potions classes. He restrained himself from rolling his eyes. And when did Draco and Snape get on a first-name basis?

Snape smirked. "Thank you, Draco."

"Are you considering a job at the Ministry?" asked Lucius curiously. "I could certainly connect you with some important people. I am sure the Ministry would be happy to accommodate such a great hero from the war."

Harry got the impression that Lucius was trying to appease Snape, but Snape was not taking the bait. He cocked his head. "Perhaps."

"You're very skilled, Severus." Narcissa said earnestly. "I'm sure you'd be able to find a department you liked."

"Although, with the new minister…" Lucius trailed off. "I don't have a lot of faith in the Ministry."

"What, you don't like Kingsley Shacklebolt?" asked Harry hotly, interjecting in the conversation. "I guess I can see why, it'll be hard to buy your way into politics and power because he's not a corrupt git like Fudge was."

"The Ministry will not be strict enough." Lucius responded coldly. "People like Kingsley Shacklebolt tarnish the wizarding name; I would not be surprised if Muggles start walking the halls of the Ministry."

"People like _you_ tarnish the wizarding name." Harry said angrily. "You should be grateful he and I kept your arse out of Azkaban-"

"We are grateful!" Narcissa said quickly, closing her slim hand over Lucius's wrist. He sighed and looked at Harry.

"I apologize, Potter." He said tersely. Harry glared back rudely but after a long while cocked his head in acceptance.

"What are your plans, Potter?" asked Narcissa, trying to gloss things over. "Will you return for your seventh year?"

"I don't think so." Harry responded. "I'm doing a lot of makeup work right now with Sev-Snape so I think I will have learned most of the important information by the time fall begins." He looked around, raising his chin a little in defiance. "I want to be an Auror."

To his surprise, Snape nodded. "No career more fitting." He said, sounding genuine. Draco turned around to him again, open-mouthed, and Harry had to stifle a laugh.

"What about you, Draco?" asked Harry, feigning politeness and still amused by Draco's dumfounded expression.

"Well I technically finished my studies last year already." Draco responded, recovering.

"What a year it was." Snape remarked darkly. Draco actually snorted.

"I will probably work at the Ministry." He said, puffing out his chest a bit. "Father is incredibly well-connected, I think I should have no trouble getting a job." Harry rolled his eyes internally, but then Draco's eyes grew a little cloudy and he looked at his food. "But I need some time first." He said softly.

Narcissa reached across the table to squeeze his hand and Harry felt a sudden rush of pity for Draco. He had clearly been traumatized by the war more than Harry had expected.

The rest of the dinner passed by reasonably well, barring a few more slight arguments between Harry, Lucius, and Draco. Snape was surprisingly quiet, observing the interactions with interest, only speaking when questioned.

Snape stood to get dessert, grabbing a knife from the drawer. "Don't forget the whipped cream," Harry reminded him, and as Snape twisted around and bent down to get the cream he subconsciously held the knife aloft, making it look strangely threatening, framed against the full moon.

Harry heard a small gasp and Harry turned to his side to see that Malfoy had blanched, his face nearly as white as his pale hair. His gray eyes were wide and fearful, and with another small gasp, he ran from the room.

Narcissa cursed quietly and rushed after her son. Snape, bemused, put down the knife and stared at Lucius, who looked almost embarrassed.

"Draco has been experiencing…episodes since the end of the war. Small things trigger painful memories, like that knife." He ran a hand through his hair, and Harry felt surprisingly sympathetic for him. "The Healers at St. Mungo's say its post-traumatic stress."

Snape put the knife back in the drawer smoothly, looking slightly troubled.

Narcissa came back in the room, wringing her hands, looked worried. "We should go, Severus, I'm sorry," she apologized. "Draco just…needs some time."

Snape nodded. "I'll say goodbye." He swept out of the room, leaving Harry with Lucius and Narcissa, who appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

"Please do think about what I said, Potter." Narcissa said. "I just – " she stole a glance in the other room "in times like these, I realize what matters." Her husband put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm going to say goodbye to Draco." Harry said, slipping out. He lingered in the hallway, trying to hear the conversation between Snape and Draco.

"-think less of me," Draco was saying.

Harry saw Snape shake his head. "I'm sorry that I did not do more to help you, Draco, last year. I was just so consumed with…my responsibilities." He cleared his throat. His hand was on Draco's shoulder.

"I should have listened to you." Draco said quietly, regret evident in his voice. "You said it was stupid, you said it was a mistake, but I took the Mark anyway-"

"Relax, Draco." Said Snape softly. Harry felt a definite twinge of jealousy at hearing his gentle tone. "Voldemort is gone. These episodes will pass."

"The things I did!" Draco said suddenly, sounding agonized. "How can I live with myself? The things you did, Severus, you did because you had to – not of your own volition – "

"When I was seventeen like you, Draco, I did all that you did and more, of my own volition. Youth makes us do foolish things." Snape said quietly. Draco looked up and nodded.

"I think we're leaving," Draco mumbled quietly. "Thanks for having us over, even though it was strange seeing you interact with Potter. Sometimes I don't know what's going on anymore." Harry saw Snape smile slightly.

Draco reached forward and the two men hugged. "I never thanked you, Severus, for everything you did for me, especially in sixth year." Draco said quietly. "Knowing that you were always in the castle, someone I could depend on, was…it was comforting."

Snape nodded gruffly. "You have grown up a lot from the spoiled two-year-old I first met, Draco. I am…proud of how far you have come."

"Thanks, sir," whispered Draco.

Harry took this as an opportune time to make his presence known, walking quickly out of the shadows and into the room. Snape looked at him curiously, wondering how much he had heard, while Draco looked at him almost fearfully.

"Come to taunt me, Potter?" asked Draco aggressively. "Think my little freak-out was funny?"

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't funny at all, Malfoy. I'm sorry you have to deal with those." He said earnestly. Draco looked at him shrewdly, but his shoulders visibly relaxed a little.

Lucius and Narcissa followed behind, coming to put their hands on Draco's shoulders. Harry felt strangely jealous of the small family until he saw Snape come to stand close to him.

"It was good to see you, Severus," Lucius said, shaking Snape's hand. "I have no doubt we will see you soon in the future. Here's hoping they find my deranged brother-in-law and arrest him so you two can go back to your normal lives."

"Thanks, Severus." Narcissa said, hugging Snape again and, after a moment's hesitation and to Harry's surprise, briefly hugging Harry. He remembered thinking, on the ground of the Forbidden Forest, that her hands had been softer than the ones he was expecting.

Lucius nodded at Harry and Draco shook his hand, then embraced Snape briefly again as Harry looked pointedly at the floor. Within moments, the three blondes were out the door of Spinner's End and into the black night.

Snape stood erect for a few moments as though in deep thought. After a little while, he regained his alertness and motioned to Harry. "Let's go back to the cottage. I'll bring the cake."

HP

"So what did Narcissa want?" asked Snape, cutting the cake. Harry felt much better and more comfortable back at the cottage. It felt like home.

"She wants me to talk to Andromeda Tonks. She wants to reconcile." Harry explained. Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise. "She's really not that bad." Harry admitted.

"At the end of the day, Narcissa is simply a wife and mother who wants the best for her family, like most." Snape said knowingly. "That is all she wanted?"

"Pretty much. Er, what did Lucius want?"

Snape glared at the cake. "He apologized for nearly bringing me to my death."

"He didn't know, though," Harry said reasonably.

"Perhaps." Snape mused. "He also wants me – and possibly also you – to publicly absolve him, so he can get back in the Ministry's good graces."

Harry made a face. "What did you say?"

"No, naturally," said Snape smoothly, giving them both plates of cake.

"Good." Harry said, relaxing.

"What did you think of the visit otherwise?"

"I think Lucius is kind of a git." Harry said. "And Draco…surprisingly, I feel kind of bad for him. Those episodes are kind of like my nightmares. He's probably seen way worse than I have."

"Draco was unprepared for the life of being a Death Eater." Snape said carefully.

The two ate in companionable silence, but something was still nagging at the back of Harry's mind, but he did not voice it in fear of sounding completely childish. But he kept darting glances at Snape, who seemed rather tired.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry paused. "Nothing."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Tell me." He ordered, annoyed.

Harry pursed his lips. "Do you like Draco more than me?" he asked quickly. "I…I saw you guys hugging, and I – " Harry reddened, feeling stupid. "Forget it. It was a childish question."

"Harry." Snape said quietly. "I have always had a good relationship with Draco; he is a family friend. But my relationship with you is very different. I like Draco, but I care deeply about you." He paused, looking into Harry's eyes. "There is no comparison, now."

Harry sighed and smiled, which, to his surprise, Snape returned. "Besides, I doubt Draco can cook and bake like you. Ironic, considering his superior talent in Potions." Snape teased.

"In that case, I should see if Lucius Malfoy can play the piano." Harry teased back. "Although," he mused thoughtfully, "even if he can, I do not know if he could be as good a father as you."

As the meaning of Harry's words hit them, Harry and Snape both blanched and became fascinated with the frosting on the cake.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's the longest one yet. I hope that my portrayal of the Malfoys was somewhat realistic; I have always believed them to be morally ambiguous, similar to Snape, and I would really like the idea of Narcissa and Andromeda reconciling. Anyway, in the next chapter we will see our three favorite teenagers when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny come to visit. Please keep reviewing, I love hearing your thoughts, and I'll update in the next few days!**


	16. Attempts at Distance

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your thoughtful reviews, I love reading them. I apologize for the delay on updating, I actually had my high school graduation a few days ago so I've been busy lately. But, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I should be updating more frequently now! Happy reading and please keep reviewing!**

S.S.

Where had THAT come from?

Severus stiffened and focused on eating his cake. What was Potter talking about? _Father_?

He saw Potter's beet-red face in the corner of his eyes. And suddenly, Severus had a realization that gave him a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Potter had _meant _what he said. And for an infinite number of reasons, that was totally unacceptable.

Not least of which was that the boy deserved someone far better.

Severus was distracted from his musings by seeing his large owl at the window. He let her in and she immediately dropped three envelopes onto Potter's lap, written in varying scrawls that Severus recognized from Potions essays. The boy, still blushing, ripped open the letters and quickly read them. Severus ate rapidly and cleaned his plate, standing at the sink with his arms crossed.

A small smile played across the boy's face as he read the letters, his expression lightening and his shoulders relaxing. He even snorted at the second one, which Severus recognized as the boy Weasley's from the abysmal handwriting.

Potter pursed his lips and his eyes darted up at Severus as though nervous to speak.

"Er," he began awkwardly, "could, er, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny possibly come over in the next few days? Maybe tomorrow?" He looked down quickly after asking the question as though he could not handle the awkwardness.

Severus considered this. He needed to start pushing the boy away, and permitting his friends to come over seemed too kind and genial. But on the other hand, if the three teenagers were there Severus could avoid contact with Potter. And for both of their well-beings, that needed to start.

"Fine." He said coldly. "Tomorrow it is." He looked at the black night sky and decided it was time to go to bed. He stopped himself from saying good night to Potter and instead barked, "Clean up" to him, ignoring the boy's slightly confused expression as he momentarily glanced up at Severus.

Severus climbed the stairs quickly, keen to put distance between himself and Potter. This _father_ business would certainly not do; why had he told the boy he "cared deeply" about him? What a foolish decision.

Ignoring the small voice inside his head saying, _But you do_, Severus cast a quick silencing charm, changed into his nightclothes, and fell into a fitful and nightmare-wrought sleep.

S.S.

Severus awoke the next morning and for the first time since Potter had come to stay with him, genuinely hoped with all his might that Rudolphus Lestrange would be caught and imprisoned, so Potter could leave and they could return to their normal lives. He groaned at the prospect of seeing the two Weasleys and Granger, and slowly made his way out of bed and got dressed.

When he walked downstairs, Potter had already dressed and was eating cereal. Another bowl was set out for Severus next to him.

"Think I can't get a bowl myself, Potter?" Severus asked nastily. Yes, this ought to anger Potter.

"What?" asked Potter, confused. "I always put out an extra setting for you."

"I don't need that, Potter." Severus sneered. "You are a _guest_ in this house, it is not your own. You need not act like you live here."

Hurt was displayed on Potter's face but it quickly disappeared. "I don't know why you're in such a bad mood, if you don't want Ron, Herm-"

"Do not speak to me like that, Potter!" hissed Severus. "You are so insolent! Perhaps I am in this "bad mood", as you so eloquently and maturely put it, because I do not want _you_ here!"

Hurt and betrayal were clearly written on Potter's face now, as well as anger. "You don't mean that." His eyes narrowed.

"Don't tell me how I think, Potter." Severus said, aggressively making himself coffee. "You are far too idiotic to understand my mind." He took a sip, looking at Potter and trying to pretend he was James Potter.

"Stop," said Potter, anger growing on his face. "Stop acting like this. What did I do? Did something happen?"

Severus was briefly disarmed by sympathy, for the smallest of moments, but then recovered. "Don't tell me what to do in my own house, Potter!" he barked. "Nothing has happened except that you remain your arrogant, mediocre self. Just like your father."

"Don't talk about my dad like that!" Potter yelled. "Stop it, Snape!"

"Show me some more respect,_ Potter_!" Severus hissed angrily.

Suddenly, the fireplace in the living room glowed green and three people tumbled out ungracefully onto the floor: the two youngest Weasleys and Granger.

The three stood up and entered the kitchen, wide smiles on their faces. Granger was the first to pick up on the fact that they had just entered a screaming match and quickly squeaked, "Er – we can come back later, if need be."

"That will be unnecessary." Severus said coldly. "Go upstairs." He ordered, staring at Potter. "I want to eat in peace."

Potter glared at him, confusion and hurt behind predominating anger, but after cocking his head toward the stairs the three others followed him, glancing fearfully down at Severus.

The two girls muttered greetings to Severus as they followed Potter, which Severus pointedly ignored. The Weasley boy, as usual, looked rather cowed and afraid as he looked at Severus's stern expression. Severus sighed, cracking his knuckles, and grabbed a bowl of cereal.

H.P.

"What was that?" asked Ginny, confused. "In your letter you said you two were getting on well!"

"We were," said Harry, annoyed. "I dunno what's going on with him, he's been such an arse this morning –"

"But mate, he's always an arse," said Ron. "You can't expect anything different. I know all that stuff you found out, but still. The man's a git."

"No, he's not!" Harry said forcefully, feeling defensive. "He's been alright really, even good. Nothing like in school. He has a totally different side."

"Really?" asked Ron incredulously. Hermione elbowed him in the side.

"I believe Harry." She said. "I always thought Professor Snape was so, er, disrespectful and cold to others because he was hiding some deep, painful emotions. And he was." She said pointedly. "I'm sure Harry has been good for him to have here."

"I think so, too," Ginny added, slipping her hand into Harry's as the four entered Harry's room and sat on the floor. Harry smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Did something happen last night, when the Malfoys came?" Hermione pressed. "Something that could have made him mad at you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He certainly wasn't going to reveal to his friends what he had let slip to Snape; they would probably run from the room screaming, especially Ron. Nor did he want to divulge the details of their life at the cottage; all those things about Snape's father and Harry's mum that they had discussed, suddenly seemed very personal and intimate. Harry knew that his friends, though not for lack of trying, would not understand.

"Not really," he said. "Just the usual arguing."

"Well, I can imagine, mate," said Ron, his arm slung around Hermione's shoulder. "You could barely make it through Potions without wanting to kill each other! I can't imagine living…_alone_ with him."

"You said it was good though, right?" asked Ginny. "That he was helping you with nightmares and stuff?"

Harry blushed a little; he had only told Ginny about his dreams. "Are you still having nightmares, Harry?" asked Hermione quietly.

"What do you mean, still?" asked Ron.

Hermione looked at Ron uncomfortably. "When you, er, left last year, Harry had a lot of nightmares. After we visited Godric's Hollow."

"I didn't know," responded Ron uneasily.

"Well," interceded Ginny, squeezing Harry's hand, "Harry said Snape's been helping him with them."

"Really?" asked Ron doubtfully. "How?"

Harry pressed his lips. "He plays the piano every night. It…relaxes me."

"Plays it manually?" asked Hermione curiously. "Couldn't he just charm the keys?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. Understanding, Hermione's eyes softened and she nodded. "I see," she whispered.

"That's why I dunno why he's being so rude now." Harry commented, almost to himself.

"Professor Snape is a complicated man, Harry." Hermione said knowingly. "But I know he'll come around." She patted his hand reassuringly as Ron looked on dubiously.

They spent the rest of the morning pleasantly, discussing the Malfoys' visit and what the other three had been up to. Ron was helping George out at the store and reported that, although George was doing better every day, he was still extremely depressed. Ron's normally carefree, easygoing countenance changed dramatically as he was explaining his brother's attitude and Hermione squeezed his hand.

Hermione had been spending time with her parents after restoring their memories, catching up on several years' worth of lost time. They had renewed their dentistry, and Hermione had brought along some teeth whitening solution that she told Harry to give to Snape. Nodding politely but hiding a grin, he pocketed the solution and made a mental note to throw it away.

Ginny had been laying low with her family, continuing to support them in the wake of Fred's loss. She had strangely grown close with Fleur, which Harry found highly amusing as his girlfriend had hated her sister-in-law with a passion when they first met. But like Ron, Ginny's eyes got a dead, empty look when she talked about George. Harry leaned his head against hers.

Harry's mood improved dramatically as he spent the morning with his friends. He had forgotten how much he valued their companionship; Ron's tireless humor, Hermione's brilliance, and Ginny's kindness. But at the same time, he also realized how much he valued his time with Snape. There was a sort of maturity and wisdom that Snape possessed that Harry's friends conspicuously lacked, despite all they had endured. Although Harry's friends understood him and had seen him at his worst, Snape had suffered almost exactly as he did.

Around noon they went down to the kitchen and had lunch; Snape was nowhere to be seen. Harry figured he was down in his lab working on his potion. Hermione had practically begged to go down and see him, but Harry warned against it; no need to worsen his mood by having Hermione pester him, no matter how good her intentions. After lunch the four of them headed out to the lake; it was another stunning day and it felt wonderful to spend it, carefree, with his friends. But a small part of him did miss Snape while swimming; the waves Ron conjured weren't quite as life-threatening as the tsunami-like ones Snape made.

Harry sent a huge wave crashing over Ron who, spluttering incoherently from his mouth being full of water, tried to enunciate a counterspell, but Harry quickly realized that the water had garbled his speech and consequently the spell. Feeling his entire body become paralyzed, the last thing Harry saw before everything went black was Ginny's petrified face.

S.S.

Severus spent all morning thinking about the situation with Potter. He knew that he could no longer house the boy, not after that comment; it would do neither of them good. He considered owling Kelly or Savage; surely they would place the boy with a capable Auror, who would keep him safe in the threat of danger from Lestrange. But though Severus wanted to separate himself from the boy, he could not bring himself to place him elsewhere. Severus knew, with humble confidence, that he was the most capable of any wizard of protecting the blasted boy.

He brewed his potions with ferocity, trying to distract himself. With the drop and addition of each ingredient he pictured solving the problem with Potter. And with each transformation of the potion – from runny to thick, from violet to turquoise – he imagined transforming his current feelings for Potter and reverting them back to the old ones.

Around mid-afternoon he decided he should go up and eat – he didn't want Potter and his friends to think that he didn't feel free to walk around in his own house. He made a sandwich, casting a careless glance out the window where Potter and his cronies were swimming in the lake. Severus saw the Weasley boy trying to set waves on Potter, but they were tiny and completely non-threatening. Severus almost felt a little wistful, but quickly buried the emotion.

He was eating his sandwich when the Weasley boy came stumbling in wearing his swim trunks, dripping all over the hardwood floors, a crazed expression on his face.

"SNAPE!" he yelled, his voice shrill. "Please, come, help, Harry – he's hurt – "

Severus narrowed his eyes at Weasley but at his mention of Potter, swiftly stood and spoke sharply. "What?"

"A spell," Weasley breathed. "Water in my mouth – came out wrong – he's unconscious – "

Severus pushed Weasley roughly aside and rushed outside. Granger and the Weasley girl were kneeling on the shore next to Potter, who was lying on the ground unconscious. Fear was etched on their faces as Severus pushed them aside and critically assessed Potter, his own heart thumping.

His face was ashen and his body rigid, as though he were paralyzed. His eyes were closed and he felt clammy, but Severus quickly ascertained a pulse and breathed a small sigh of relief. Running diagnostic spells hurriedly, he quickly realized that the idiot Weasley boy had accidentally uttered a Dark spell that mimicked the effects of petrification by basilisk, but was thankfully reversible with Severus's extensive knowledge. He levitated the boy into the cottage, gently placing him on the couch and quickly muttering the countercurses, his hand subconsciously resting gently on Potter's head. In his own hurry and concern, he missed seeing the other three teenagers follow him in, exchanging looks of surprise.

"Come on, Potter," he muttered, his wand flying in complicated flicks, "wake up…wake up, Harry…"

Severus pulled Potter up into a sitting position, resting his lolling head against a pillow. Gripping the boy's shoulders, he shook him lightly until, after a few agonizing moments, the boy's eyes fluttered open. Severus felt his chest deflate with relief and sat back, trying to regain his impassivity.

Potter eyed Severus intently. "What happened?"

"Your friend – " he sent Weasley a dirty look, who looked appropriately guilty, "accidentally set a Dark curse on you. His speech was garbled by water." He looked at Weasley coldly.

"I'm so sorry, mate," the boy Weasley said hurriedly, "I had no idea – total accident – "

"Don't worry about it, Ron." Potter said easily, brushing off his friend and stretching, bending his limbs. "I understand."

"We were so worried," the girl Weasley said, sitting gingerly next to Potter and staring at him.

"Professor," Granger addressed carefully, "what was the spell?"

Severus looked at her, wondering how much she knew of the spell and its countercurse. "_Nihil motum_." He said shortly.

Granger's eyes widened in surprise and understanding as Severus mentally slapped himself. "The countercurse…is _tollere_." She breathed. Severus did not nod or shake his head, but continued to stare on impassively.

Potter and the Weasleys looked at her curiously. "What does it do?" asked Potter.

Severus shot her a warning look, trying to intimidate her into staying quiet, but alas the insolent know-it-all didn't listen. Biting her lip, Granger said, "_Tollere _literally means to remove. Professor Snape…removed a bit of his magic, to bring back Harry."

Understanding dawned on the girl Weasley's and Potter's face, but the boy Weasley looked bewildered. "What does that mean? Snape gave some of his magic to Harry?"

Granger nodded. "A wizard as powerful as Professor Snape has an abundance of magic, Ron, but yes, he gave Harry some. He will recover is quickly, I'm sure, but it's an incredibly exhausting and debilitating spell."  
"You did that for me?" asked Potter quietly, staring at Severus with an unfathomable expression.

Severus paused, trying to think of a caustic response. "There was no choice." He said honestly, hoping Potter was insulted.

"Could you give us a minute?" Potter asked his friends quietly.

"Sure," the girl Weasley said, squeezing Potter's hand.

"We'll make dinner!" Granger said brightly, smiling at Severus. What nerve.

"I'm sorry again," the boy Weasley said sheepishly.

The three walked out, still in their swimclothes, into the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

"I don't know what to say." Said Potter.

"What's new." Severus said coldly.

"I don't know how to thank you." Potter said seriously. "Giving me some of your magic…"

"Do not flatter yourself." Severus said evenly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I could not let you die. It was the only way. I do not fancy spending the rest of my life in Azkaban."

"That's the reason you saved me?" asked Potter, his eyes narrowed.

"The only one." Said Severus, staring ahead.

"I heard you call me Harry." Potter said softly. "Your hand was on my head."

"One must maintain physical contact during the spell, you foolish boy." Severus lied quickly. Potter's face fell. "I used your first name only because it may have gotten through to you."

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry." Potter said sincerely. "I don't know if I caused this change in your attitude, but I want things to go back to how they were before."

Severus looked at him, those damn green eyes hopeful, and almost felt his resolve break. But he would not put himself or Potter through this – he had chosen to live a lonely, solitary life, and was not inclined to change that now. Potter must go back to hating him, not thinking of him and the word…_father_ in the same realm, let alone the same sentence.

"Over the past few weeks, I have suffered a lapse in judgment." Severus said evenly. "I am still recovering from the snake wounds and, undoubtedly, the medication had influenced me to have stronger emotions." He paused, nearly hating himself for what he was going to say. "After I told you that I cared deeply for you, I realized those words were not true. I do not hate you, but I do not care for you." He gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Do not read into the spell I used today. You mean very little to me, not nearly enough to give you any of my magic."

Potter's eyes suddenly looked profoundly sad – the last time Severus had seen those green eyes look like that, had been the Mudblood incident. He almost spoke, almost apologized, but bit his tongue.

"You don't mean that." Potter said, shaking his head as if trying to convince himself.

"Oh, but I do." Severus said nastily. "I am exhausted. I am going upstairs to sleep; your idiotic friends must be gone in two hours." And without a second glance, with great strain, he lifted himself from his chair and walked upstairs, ignoring the boy's friends as he passed through the kitchen. He fell onto his bed, realizing he was too weak to set a Silencing charm, and before he could pray that he didn't have nightmares, he fell into a deep sleep.

H.P.

WHAT was going on?

Harry sat on the couch, pathetically trying to keep his eyes from leaking tears. What had he done wrong? Was Snape really that disgusted with what he had said?

He had felt Snape's gentle touch when he was trying to revive him. He had seen relief flood his features when he opened his eyes; yet, the man was acting more cruel and hateful than ever before.

Harry stood wearily, entering the kitchen and sitting down to eat a roast that Ginny had made. They chatted quietly, about trivial things, until Hermione cleared her throat.

"How did your talk go?"

"Horribly." Harry said flatly. "I just…he's acting so strange. Just like he used to. And it all started last night…"

"Harry." Ron said, looking uncharacteristically serious. "However you think the greasy git feels about you, I reckon it's not true. When I came in here today, and said you were hurt…"

"Ron's right." Ginny said. "Snape looked…horrified." She looked at her food. "He looked like Dad when he found out Fred was…dead."

Hermione nodded. "It's clear Professor Snape cares a great deal about you, Harry. Is…is there something you're not telling us, that happened last night?"

Harry stared at his food, wondering if they would be absolutely horrified at the truth. But as he looked around at their curious faces, he knew they were only trying to help. They were his best friends, after all.

"Er, kind of," he started. "I sort of told him…that he was a better father than Lucius Malfoy."

All three sets of eyes widened, but Ginny's expression turned kind. "Harry, I don't think that's weird." She said quietly. "I can see that Snape has been caring for you, sort of like a father would."

"Harry," said Hermione, her voice taking on a lecturing and informative tone, "the problem is obvious. When Snape heard you say that word, I reckon he felt rather overwhelmed. He's spent an entire lifetime shutting people out, except your mum and Dumbledore, and the implications of that word…he's probably scared you're going to hurt him, like they did."

"But I'm not."

"I know that," Hermione said. "But he doesn't." She sighed, casting a glance upstairs. "Give him time. Maybe be really open with him, tell him you care about him too. But I know one thing; that spell he used today, is nothing minor. Giving someone else a portion of your magic is huge."

"I hope he comes around, mate." Said Ron seriously. "You seem happier than you have in a while."

Harry, touched by Ron's concern, smiled a little and the four teenagers continued their discussion, but with lighter topics. As the night grew dark, they stood up and bade Harry goodbye, promising to write and visit again, wishing him well in making up with Snape.

Harry watched wistfully as they left through the Floo, his hand still raised in goodbye after they were all gone. He cleaned up dinner and trudged up the stairs, having a mental argument with himself about whether or not to wait to speak with Snape in the morning.

But suddenly, he heard a low moaning coming from Snape'd bedroom door, followed by what sounded like sobbing and screaming. The noises were so unlike Snape that Harry felt momentarily rooted to the spot, unable to move from shock. After a split second of indecision, he rushed to Snape's door and pushed it open.

He barely registered the room as he saw Snape lying on the bed, twisted in his sheets, his face pale in the moonlight and contorted with grief.

"I'M SORRY!" he shouted, his face demented and inhuman with pain. "I DIDN'T KNOW, I DIDN'T KNOW, PLEASE FORGIVE ME – "

"SNAPE!" Harry shouted, approaching the man and grasping his shoulders. "Snap out of it! Snape!"

But Snape was too far gone to hear him. Tears streamed down his face, his hands clutching at the blankets in agony. "LILY, I TRIED, PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!"

"Snape!" Harry bellowed, grasping Snape's shoulders tightly. "WAKE UP!"

But again, Snape ignored him, now curling into a ball and whimpering softly. "Lily, I'm so sorry…and now, I'm hurting your son…I'm a monster…I should have let Nagini kill me…"

Harry heart clenched and he felt tears spring into his own eyes. Struck by inspiration, he conjured a glass of water and poured it on Snape's face, the water mixing with the man's tears. Suddenly, the whimpering stopped. Harry quickly siphoned the water off his face, trying to avoid Snape waking and attacking him.

"Severus," Harry said softly. "It's okay. You were having a nightmare."

Snape's coal black eyes opened, and Harry had never seen him looking so vulnerable. Gone were any airs of superiority, coldness, or impassivity; his expression was pure pain and regret. He blinked slowly, as if unsure Harry was sitting there.

"Why are you here?" Snape asked quietly, trying to sit up.

"I heard you." Harry said.

Snape groaned and muttered something about a Silencing charm.

"You put those up?" asked Harry angrily.

"Yes, I do, Potter!" Snape responded. "It would not do well for you to hear me agonizing over my nightmares every night!"

"I could help you!" Harry retorted stubbornly. "Like you've been helping me!"

Snape suddenly leaned back, looking exhausted. He looked pale as ever in the moonlight and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Harry tentatively stood up and, after a moment's hesitation, walked towards the other side of Snape's bed and pulled himself up on it. Snape looked at him incredulously as Harry smoothed Snape's twisted blankets over him.

"Do you dream about my mum a lot?" asked Harry carefully, leaning back against the headboard.

Snape appeared to try to move away from Harry, but seemed to lack the energy. He did not speak for a few moments but then uttered, "She frequents many of my nightmares."

"Same with me." Harry said simply. He looked down at Snape's prostrate figure and conjured the courage to speak. "You're not a monster." He said softly.

Snape looked up at him, but his black eyes were not angry or accusatory, but instead extremely weary. "How much did you hear?"

"Not much." Harry responded honestly.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Just when Harry thought Snape was falling asleep, he heard the man speak in the softest voice he had ever heard him use.

"I didn't mean what I said today."

Harry paused, turning around to look at his face. "I know."

Snape sighed. "You didn't have to come in here tonight, wake me up. Especially after how I acted."

"Severus," Harry chastised softly. "I had no choice." He paused. "You also saved my life today."

Severus cocked his head lightly. "I had no choice." He said, repeating Harry's words.

Harry looked down at the man, the man who had given some of his own magic so that Harry could live, the man that had been apologizing in his own nightmare for hurting Harry.

"Can I say something?"

"Why do you always ask that," Snape asked, annoyed. But when Harry looked at his black eyes, there was lingering affection in them. His heart warmed, he continued.

"What I said last night," Harry began. "I didn't want to…to make things weird, or anything." He paused. "Being with you, here, it's been like…it's been like what my childhood should have been, you know? Kind of like a proper…family. As dysfunctional as that sounds." He hesitated. "I care about you too, a lot, Severus. I haven't said it, but I do." He looked into the black eyes, willing them to believe his next words. "And I'm not going to leave."

"Yes, you are," Snape whispered softly, his eyes contorting in pain.

"No, I'm not." Harry disagreed quietly. He laid back, suddenly overcome with fatigue, and closed his eyes.

"As for what I said last night," he whispered, losing his filter, almost asleep, "I…I wish it were true."

He missed Snape's last words, quiet and unfiltered as his own as he too fell into a deep sleep beside him. "So do I."


	17. Birthday Part 1

S.S.

Severus woke the next morning feeling completely debilitated and exhausted. Stretching his achy bones lightly and wincing, he immediately stilled as he heard a heavy snore somewhere beside him. WHO was that?

Oh. It was Potter.

Severus vaguely remembered Potter coming in the night before, when he was having a nightmare. He had forgotten to put up the damn silencing charm. He hadn't expected Potter to come in, though, not after how he had treated him…

But how had Potter ended up_ sleeping_ in there? Severus distantly remembered Potter climbing onto the bed, but feeling too weak to move away from him. And then Potter had referenced his previous comments, about comparing Severus to a father…

And then the dratted boy had said, in a semi-conscious haze of sleep, that he wished it were true.

And Severus realized with an audible groan that he had agreed.

He glanced sideways at Potter, who was snoring loudly with his mouth open slightly. His glasses were tipped on his nose and he was drooling. Months ago Severus would have found the sight absolutely repulsive, but now it wasn't quite so abhorrent. Even a little amusing.

Potter looked almost like a full-grown man, but still, there were traces of the eleven-year-old boy Severus had first seen (and hated). How old was he now? Seventeen? Eighteen?

What month was it?

H.P.

The next week passed by at a reasonably slow pace, which Harry didn't mind. He continued making up his schoolwork in the morning, and swimming or playing chess with Snape in the afternoon. Their relationship was growing slowly; Snape was nowhere near nice, but the arguing had stopped, and Harry could see that Snape was genuinely trying to be patient with him. It was in the little ways that Harry saw Snape's true character shine through; when he absentmindedly blew on Harry's hot tea before giving it to him, when Harry fell asleep on the couch and woke up with a blanket snugly tucked around him, when he teased Harry lightly and actually smiled.

Towards the end of July Harry realized that his eighteenth birthday was approaching, but didn't want to mention it to Snape. He didn't want to sound dramatic or self-centered by declaring it, as Snape was already being hospitable enough by hosting and caring for Harry. But a small part of him also knew that if he did tell Snape, and Snape scoffed and didn't do anything, it would hurt the relationship that Harry was trying so hard to foster.

Harry woke on the morning of July 31st with slight trepidation, but then it immediately cleared. Even if Snape ignored his birthday, even if he got few presents, wouldn't the fact that he was here make it one of the best birthdays he had ever had? Spending the day as he had been would suffice.

He trudged downstairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and walked into the bright kitchen. Snape was drinking coffee and reading, oddly framed by the sunrise. It suddenly struck Harry how different Snape looked than he had previously; his skin was not pallid and sallow, but tanned from days outside at the lake; his hair was not as greasy and almost looked shiny; the harsh lines on his face had relaxed and he almost looked…content. He also wasn't wearing his heavy black robes, but instead thinner, lighter-colored Muggle clothing.

Harry saw an enormous plate filled with an extensive breakfast across from Snape. Beside it was a small stack of presents and cards, next to a massive trash bag filled with (what seemed to be) more cards.

"Morning," Harry said, trying to keep the smile off his face.

Snape looked up, his eyes unfathomable. "Morning, Potter."

"What is all this?" Harry gestured at the breakfast, daring to push his luck.

"Potter," Snape said condescendingly, "it is your birthday, is it not?"

Harry gave up the fight and let a smile slide across his face. "It is." He sat down, devouring the breakfast ferociously as Snape looked on in disdain. He glanced sideways at the pile of letters and gifts, seeing Hermione's neat scrawl and Hagrid's messy penmanship; and, as his heart skipped a beat, he saw a gift box attached to a note with cramped writing that Harry had seen in the margins of an old Potions book.

"What's this?" he asked, gesturing to the trashbag.

"That is only one of six." Snape said, his lip curling in distaste. "Birthday presents from your many fans."

Harry laughed, snorting. "Merlin." Suddenly, he looked up at Snape. "When is your birthday?"

"What?"

"When is _your _birthday?"

"It does not matter, Potter." Snape said stiffly. "Why do you want to know?"

"So I can prepare for it."

"Birthdays have never mattered to me. I do not understand why the world wants to celebrate someone being one year closer to death, and why people give gifts to signify congratulations that you have survived in the living world. It is highly contrived."

Harry frowned. "Nevertheless, when is you birthday?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "January 9th."

Harry nodded. "Thank you. Now I have over five months to plan."

Harry ate breakfast slowly, savoring the food and anticipating his gifts. "Thank you for the breakfast, Severus."

Snape nodded minutely, then opened his mouth to speak, surprising Harry. "What were birthdays like when you were a child?"

"Horrible." Harry said through a mouthful of food. "Not really different than any other day, so I did my usual chores all day or hung out in my cupboard. I never, ever got a cake, or really any presents. A couple times they gave me a coat hanger."

Snape nodded, but Harry did not miss the brief expression of anger that flitted across his face. It made Harry feel strangely warmed.

Harry finished his breakfast and shifted his attention to the pile of presents. He purposefully left Snape's small box for last.

Hagrid had given him a gift card to Eyelops Owl Emporium in Diagon Alley, remarking in his note that it was a perfect time to get a new owl. In his card he also expressed his wish that Harry was doing well, enjoying living with Snape, about whom, he noted, he had been right all along. Hermione had given him several books about the history of Aurors, Auror training, and guidebooks for Aurors. Ron's gift was a framed photograph of him, Ron, and Hermione, taken sitting together in the Great Hall a few weeks after the battle. Their faces were happy, but clearly worn and matured from the year they had endured. Harry was struck by how old they looked. He had also sent a large giftbag of purchases from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, at which Snape raised a disdainful eyebrow.

Ginny had also sent him a picture, a silhouette snapshot someone must have taken in their sixth year. They were sitting on the grounds, his arm around her as she leaned into his shoulder, their bodies framed by the setting sun. She had also attached a small diary that she had kept during her sixth year at Hogwarts, so Harry could know what she had been doing. He set that aside to read later.

Mrs. Weasley had sent him an enormous knitted blanket with the words "Hero Harry" stitched in gold. Snape snorted softly at that one. She also sent a few cakes, but mentioned in her note that she hoped Harry would not need those this year. Fleur and Bill had sent him a large, glass paperweight that resembled a snitch. Andromeda had sent Harry a small photo album, mostly solo pictures of Teddy, but also a few of him and the baby and, to Harry's grief, a few of Remus and Tonks with their son. She also sent a few books and journals that Tonks had kept when she became an Auror.

Harry saw a long, thin package and was astonished to see that Minerva McGonagall had gotten him a broomstick, the latest edition, a Rapidsprint. Kingsley Shacklebolt sent an assortment of Auror materials, such as Dark magic detectors, that Harry recognized from shelves in Dumbledore's office. Even the Malfoys had sent a card, embossed in gold and glitter, along with a small model of a phoenix.

Harry glanced sideways at the trashbag, but decided to look at it, and the other five, later. He was too eager to see Snape's gift. It was wrapped in Slytherin green paper, and all the card said was  
"Happy birthday Potter – Severus." Harry bit his lip and glanced at Snape, who looked the slightest bit nervous. Nervous that Harry would like the present? Harry frowned and fought the urge to tell Snape that it didn't matter if the present was dirty socks, the fact that he had gotten him anything, and had taken the time to wrap it, meant more than he could say.

"This is from you." Harry stated. Snape nodded. Harry carefully opened the green paper, taking care not to rip it, to see a simple white box. He opened the lid delicately.

There were three objects inside. He gently lifted the first out of the box and was stunned at what he saw. It was a set of robes, midnight blue, with a small Ministry of Magic crest under which Harry's name was embossed in gold. The robes were thick and elegant, made out of fine material and resistant to all sorts of elements. They were Auror robes; Harry had seen Savage and Kelly wearing them. He knew they were very expensive.

The second was a thin book that Harry instantly recognized was from the Muggle world; it was titled "Piano for Beginners" and was filled with simple sheet music. Harry smiled internally as he remembered mentioning to Snape a few weeks ago that he really wanted to learn to play the piano, but Snape's music was far too advanced. He carefully put it on the table and delved back into the box.

The third was a small leather book, embossed in green, which said nothing on the front. But when Harry opened it, and flipped through it, he uttered a small gasp.

It was a small scrapbook of Harry's mum. There were a few solo shots of her, smiling, laughing, doing homework in the library, lounging on the grounds. Then there were little snippets of notes she had written to Severus, and Harry's heart clenched at her handwriting. _When I'm older, Sev, I'm going to have lots of kids, just like Mary's family. If I have a son, I am going to name him Harry, and if a daughter, Grace. It would be rather strange if they looked just like me – I don't want to inflict my super-red hair on them – but if they had my eyes, that would be nice. It is always so special to look at children and see their parents in them!_

Harry wiped the tears out of his eyes, tracing Lily's words with his thumb.

He frowned, uncertain how to express his gratitude to Snape. Each gift had been so thoughtful, so perfect; Harry was touched beyond words for what Snape had done. He raised his eyes to look at the man and saw that he still look slightly nervous. Was he mistaking Harry's frown for disappointment?

"I don't know how to thank you." Harry said thickly, his voice catching. "They are all…perfect."

Relief briefly passed through Snape's eyes. "The robes," he explained, "I know of your ambition to be an Auror, I am quite sure the department will be scrambling to count you among its ranks once you get out of here." He cleared his throat. "I thought I would get you the robes a little early."

"They're perfect." Harry said earnestly. "They're the nicest robes I've ever had. I…thank you. And the music – I'm going to start learning tonight." His eyes shifted to the photo album, his hand coming up to trace the embossed cover absentmindedly, his eyes becoming glassy again. "And this scrapbook…how can I – "

"Harry." Snape said softly. "You're welcome."

Harry, suddenly overcome with happy emotion, quickly stood to clear their plates so Snape would not become uncomfortable at Harry's unprecedented tears. With a flick of his wand he sent the trashbag and other presents upstairs, but kept the ones Snape had given him on the table.

"I must tell you," Snape said, with the air of having to admit something unpleasant, "your little friends are planning on hosting a birthday celebration for you later. At the Weasley's." His lip curled unpleasantly.

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "You're coming, right?"

"What?" Snape asked, bewildered. "No."

"No! You have to come." Harry said aggressively.

"Why?"

"Because I want you to be there."

Snape rolled his eyes. "People will not take to my presence very kindly, Potter. You do remember who I am, do you not? No matter how you exposed my loyalties, I am not exactly a beloved party guest."

"Severus, I would really like you to be there." Harry said. "Please, come." He widened his eyes in sincerity. Snape rolled his in return.

"I will consider it." He said shortly.

"Wonderful," Harry said briskly. "So, do you have plans for today?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I don't have any pressing matters."

"Good." Harry said. "Can we, er…go somewhere? Is it safe?"

Snape hesitated momentarily. "I believe so. As long as I with you, going on a brief excursion should not be dangerous." He paused. "Where do you wish to go?"

Harry paused. He had originally had numerous ideas in mind – the mountains, a Muggle landmark, even Hogwarts – but glancing at the photo album, he had another thought.

"Have you ever been to my mum's grave?"

Snape eyes widened and great pain briefly flitted across his face. "No."

"Why not?"

"Godric's Hollow is home to a lot of wizards." Snape sighed. "I feared I would be seen." His face turned hard. "And she is buried with your father. I did not wish to see that."  
Harry pressed his lips. "Would you like to go today?"

"A graveyard visit is your idea of an enjoyable birthday?"

"I think she would have loved it." Harry said. "It's the day, eighteen years ago, that she became a mum. It only seems fitting."

Snape looked down and cracked his knuckles, looking troubled.

"I think she would have loved if you came with me," Harry said softly. "It would be good for you."

Snape was quiet for a long while and then looked up at Harry, his black eyes indiscernible. "Fine."

H.P.

The two pattered into the graveyard, Harry pointedly steering Snape away from seeing the statue of him and his parents. This was going to be difficult enough, no need to make it worse.

The air was heavy with heat but breezy, the opposite of the last time Harry had been here on Christmas Eve. The sun shone above them, light filtering through the trees, casting golden rays on the headstones.

Harry walked closer to Snape than usual as he purposefully strode towards the area where the graves were. He saw the white marble tomb distantly, glinting oddly in the sun.

"Right there," he said softly, gesturing with his head to Snape, his heart beating fast.

Snape's expression remained guarded as the two men stood before the white marble gravestone. Their names, and dates of birth and death, seemed to sparkle in the light.

Harry looked at the graves, feeling a wave of grief wash over him again. Despite his stupendous relief at Voldemort's death, Harry felt cheated in a way. Killing Voldemort had not brought Harry's parents back to life. Thinking of their ghost-like figures right before he had sacrificed himself, he suddenly felt himself wishing they were there now, to share in celebrating his victory, to smile and hug him and tell him they loved him.

There would always be something missing from his life. No matter how good things were, no matter how many friends he had or how happy he was, he would never have his parents back. And the realization of that filled him with a sense of despair and longing he could barely bear to feel. Thick, hot tears fell from his eyes, and this time they did not freeze, but fell to the ground. He pressed his lips to suppress a sob.

Suddenly, he felt a strong hand grasp his own, tightly, and for one wild second he thought he had been transported back in time to Christmas Eve when Hermione had taken his hand in that same fashion when they had been here before. But no – it was Snape.

Harry glanced sideways and saw that tears were dripping down Snape's hooked nose. Harry felt Snape's hand slide from his as the man fell to his knees, sobbing, his head bowed.

"I did this," he whispered through sobs. "_I did this_."

Harry knelt down beside Snape and rubbed circles around his back. "It's okay, Severus. They both forgive you." He soothed.

Snape took Harry's hand again, squeezing it tightly, and the men stayed like that for a while, kneeling before the grave in the hot summer sun, their eyes glassy and reflective, hands clasped together. Finally, Harry decided he had had enough. "Can we go?"

Snape nodded and swiftly stood, offering out a hand absentmindedly to Harry. Harry took it and Snape pulled him up quickly, then held onto his hand a moment longer than necessary.

"Thank you." he said simply.

Harry bit his lip, looking down at the grave, his eyes tears threatening to spill over, his face still contorted in pain. "I'm happy it helped you."

And before he knew it, Snape had grasped his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. It briefly disarmed Harry that Snape was actually very good at hugging; his arms were long and strong, making the embrace infinitely comforting. It was over quickly, but when Snape pulled back, he kept his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle. The tone made Harry's eyes even glassier, but he smiled.

"I am if you are."

Snape nodded and then dropped one hand, but kept the other on Harry's shoulders. He conjured a bouquet of white lilies and put them beside the Christmas wreath that Hermione had left there before. With one last glance, the two men walked out, the slightly taller one steering the younger one.

"I bet she's looking down and smiling right now," Harry said, smiling slightly as they walked out of the kissing gate. "A huge smile."

Snape's eyes filled with tears, but his lips curved into a rare smile. "Happy birthday, Harry."

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry it is a bit on the short side but I wanted to split Harry's birthday up into 2 chapters. The next one will be the party, and should be up in the next few days. Please keep reviewing! Much love, keyphoenix**


	18. Snape at the Burrow

**Thank you for all of your kind reviews, they are so fun to read. I would like to mention that there will be NO slash between Hermione and Snape in this story, but I wanted to show Severus opening up a bit to someone other than just Harry. I have always thought Hermione and Snape would have been good friends. I hope you enjoy the chapter! **

S.S.

Severus stood with Potter outside the "Burrow", as the boy called it, his lip curling in distaste. "What is this?"

Potter gave him a look. "The Weasleys' house."

Severus widened his eyes, glancing at the overgrown Flutterby bushes and rusty cauldrons. "It looks like it's about to fall over." However, in the oddest sense it did look strangely…homey. Severus did not tell Potter this, of course.

Potter gave him a sharper look. "Snape. _Try _to be decent, for my sake."

Severus rolled his eyes. "You hold me in such low esteem."

Severus was teasing, but Potter's face was serious. "That couldn't be further from the truth."

Severus opened his mouth to speak but didn't know what to say. Why did Potter always do that, disarm him with those genuine-sounding compliments? Severus had never known how to respond to compliments. Usually he just lashed out, but when they were from people whose opinion actually mattered to him, he just felt confused.

Luckily, he was saved by from his musings by the plump figure of Molly Weasley appearing at the door, who promptly proceeded to smother Potter in a bone-crushing hug.

"HARRY!" she exclaimed. "Happy birthday! Do come in dear, please, everyone's in the backyard, go on…" with another brief hug she patted his back and pushed him through the door. Potter turned around to give Severus a brief, patronizing look before disappearing through the door.

Molly Weasley turned slowly, still standing on the front stoop, and regarded Severus with an odd expression. Oddly enough, her eyes began to water, and Severus immediately felt internally mortified.

"You came." She said.

Severus tried to exude calmness so she would not lose it. He had so little patience for maudlin behavior. "I did."

"You've changed a lot since I first met you." She said reflectively, wiping her eyes. "And of course, my own awareness of you has changed as well."

Severus merely nodded, shifting his head to see if another red-headed Weasley would come out and save him from this awkward conversation.

"You didn't have to come tonight." She said softly.

"Potter forced me." He said curtly.

To his surprise, she smiled a little. "Severus, I don't think anyone could force you to do something you really didn't want to do, least of them Harry Potter."

"He has a special power." Severus said sarcastically. "Over me."

But Molly seemed to think he was serious (maybe he was). Her smile became more pronounced and her eyes glassier. She smirked knowingly. "That's what happens." Before he could respond, she quickly engulfed him an uncomfortably tight hug and ushered him in through the Burrow door.

Severus was not surprised to find that the inside of the house was just as cluttered and eccentric as the outside. But again, the place did exude an unusually cozy and comfortable atmosphere. However, he tried to hide his disgust at the "HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY" enchanted banner along the wall.

Molly ushered him outside into a large, overgrown garden filled with enchanted balloons, several tables of food, and a large group of people. Everyone's attention was on Potter, who was being greeted enthusiastically by the entire group in the backyard. Severus carefully slipped to the side along the house and inspected the plants. He was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder.

"Professor?" asked a voice. Severus instantly recognized it as Granger's, and turned around slowly.

"Granger." He greeted stiffly.

"It's nice that you came." She said softly, shifting to stand next to Severus. Suddenly, the sun shone on her exposed forearm and Severus, with an internal gasp, read the word "Mudblood" scarred on it. Granger saw him staring.

"Battle wound." She said softly, tracing her finger on it. "Bellatrix Lestrange."

Severus met her eyes, feeling anger building inside him. He _hated_ that word. "That's heinous."

Granger gave a little laugh. "Everything that woman did was heinous. She was a Death Eater." Realizing the meaning of her words, she blanched. "I didn't mean – "

"Forget it." Said Severus curtly. Strangely, though, he did not feel angry. "I did some heinous things as a Death Eater too, Miss Granger."

She nodded but then held up a finger in disagreement. "But you feel remorse for those actions – Bellatrix Lestrange never did. That's the most important distinction."

"I still did them."  
"Well, thank Merlin you did, or else we would not be standing here." Said Granger softly, staring at the crowd. Severus noticed her gaze lingered on Ronald Weasley and he resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes.

They stood in silence until Severus spoke. "I might be able to fix that. The scar." He jerked his head at Hermione's arm. "I know a great deal about Dark curses, and I'm sure Bellatrix used one to do that. I'll look in my books."

Granger stared up at him, amazement etched on her face. Did people really think he was that awful?

"Thank you." she said, smiling a little. "Harry was right about you." She tugged on his arm lightly, pulling him towards the crowd. "Come meet my parents, I've told them you're the wizarding equivalent of a doctor and they're dying to meet you." Severus rolled his eyes toward the sky, but followed her.

H.P.

"Luna! Neville!" Harry exclaimed, eagerly hugging his old friends. "It's great to see you both!"

"You, too, Harry," Luna said serenely, twisting her long blond hair, which was in a plaited braid with daisies in the locks. "You look healthy. The Nargles have been staying away from you, I expect."

Harry grinned at his friend's eccentricity. "What have you been up to, Luna?"

"I've been travelling a bit with Dad, trying to find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack." She said. "So far, no luck, but I haven't given up hope. They're shier and quieter in the summer."

Harry smiled. "That's brilliant, Luna. And you, Neville?"

"I've been working at the Ministry actually," Neville said. "Some of the Aurors have been giving me lessons; I'm thinking I might try it out for a bit, see if I'm any good. If not, though, I think I would love being a teacher. Maybe at Hogwarts, I could teach Herbology."

"You would be a great teacher." Harry said honestly.

"Speaking of which…how has it been living with Snape?" Neville asked, his voice quieting.

With impeccable timing, Snape suddenly appeared at Harry's shoulder. "Mrs. Weasley told me to tell you dinner is ready." He said smoothly, seeming to not notice Neville or Luna. Harry nodded and then gestured his head lightly at his friends.

"Miss Lovegood." Snape said, nodding slightly. "Mr. Longbottom."

Harry looked at Neville concernedly, remembering his friend's extreme fear of Snape back at Hogwarts. He looked fine but his eyes widened in the slightest bit of fear.

Harry looked meaningfully at Snape, raising his eyebrows. The man raised his eyebrows back but then, in an almost defeated manner, returned to his normal expression.

"I hear you killed Nagini." Snape stated.

Neville's jaw dropped open slightly, staring at Snape with something akin to wonder. "I- I did." He stammered, but with the slightest bit of pride.

Snape regarded him carefully, his eyes unfathomable. "That monster nearly killed me." He paused, his mouth contorting a bit as if he were about to say something unpleasant. "Well done."

Neville's jaw dropped pronouncedly now, as did Harry's. "Th-thank you, sir." Neville said, his face shell-shocked. Snape nodded slightly back at him and gestured impatiently at Harry.

Harry waved a quick goodbye to an oblivious Luna and still-shocked Neville, following Snape to the table. "That was nice of you." he said, looking at Snape gratefully.

"Don't ever call me nice, Potter," said Snape, his brow wrinkling at the word.

"Whatever you say," said Harry breezily, sitting down. Snape sat on one side of him and Ron on the other. "That probably meant a lot to him, you know."

Snape merely shrugged and cast a sideways glance at the woman sitting next to him, who had short, dirty-blond hair and big hazel eyes. Harry recognized her as Charlie Weasley' girlfriend.

"Hello," she breathed in a high voice, staring at Snape. "I'm Clarissa."

Snape did not greet her back but, seemingly annoyed by her close proximity, widened his eyes at her ever so slightly, and moved a bit closer to Harry. She stuck out her hand for him to shake, which he totally ignored.

"I've been so excited to meet you." she stated, in the same breathy voice. "Have you been receiving my letters?"

"Letters?" Snape asked, with the utmost disdain.

"Oh, I send them quite frequently." She explained, seemingly oblivious to Snape's obvious discomfort and disinterest. "I am an _enormous_ fan of yours, Severus. I always thought you were, by far, the most attractive Death Eater."

Harry snorted, trying to contain his amusement. Snape shot him an annoyed glance and looked coldly at Clarissa. "Don't call me Severus."

"Oh, okay," she said, smiling widely and winking. "Are there other nicknames you like? Perhaps more…_intimate_ ones?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Harry didn't think he had ever seen Snape look so disgusted. He ducked his head down to hide his amusement.

"Desist speaking to me." Snape said coolly, shooting her a deadly glare that would have sent first-years sprinting away in terror.

"I love it when you use those big words." Clarissa purred, moving closer to Severus.

"Charlie!" Harry exclaimed, trying to get the second eldest Weasley boy's attention as he passed by carrying a bread basket, "Er, could you come here?" Harry felt genuinely afraid that Snape was going to kill Clarissa.

Charlie approached, looking warily at his girlfriend. "Clarissa? I told you to stay away from Snape."

"His name is Severus." She said indignantly.

"Merlin!" said Charlie, rolling his eyes. "What's she been doing?"

"Making _quite_ unwanted and crass passes at me," sniffed Snape, his lips curled distastefully.

"Clarissa!" Charlie exclaimed angrily. "Come on. We need to talk." He gestured his head aggressively towards the house. "Now."

Clarissa rolled her eyes in annoyance but stood up, resigned. She winked one last time at Snape and reached out to touch him, but Snape moved completely out of her reach. "Touch me and you'll…_regret_ it."

Clarissa, unfazed, smiled widely at him as Charlie ushered her inside the house.

Harry pressed his lips, trying to remain serious. "She seems great."

Snape sent him a sideways glance and Harry could have sworn that he saw an expression of amusement flit across his features. "Eat your food, Potter." He said, swiping his head with a napkin.

S.S.

After dinner had been served, people were pattering around the garden, basking in the summer sunset and eating dessert. Potter was off talking to Hagrid, who had unceremoniously lifted Severus off the ground in an overly-enthusiastic hug, much to his annoyance. Severus now sat on a chair towards the back of the garden, inspecting a plant.

"May we join you?" asked Arthur Weasley, pulling up a chair near Severus with Bill Weasley. Severus had always liked the eldest Weasley best. Severus nodded slightly.

"You look well, Severus." Arthur said, his expression kind. "Healthy. Even, dare I say…happy."

Severus raised one eyebrow sardonically. He was not _happy_.

Right?

"Dad, I dunno if Professor Snape would much appreciate being called happy." Bill interjected, smiling slightly. "But you do look well, Professor." Snape nodded.

"How has Harry been?" asked Arthur.

"Tolerable." Snape said guardedly. "The boy does have some positive qualities that I perhaps…overlooked, in previous years."

Arthur and Bill laughed, but almost immediately sobered. "Has Harry, er, spoken to you at all about…the last year? When the three of them were on their own?"

"At times."

Arthur nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "He must trust you. Harry doesn't open up to just anyone." Bill nodded in agreement. "We've been trying to get Ron to talk about it a bit, but he's rather sensitive. We have a right to know, he's our son, but I s'pose…perhaps it's too difficult to discuss."

"Mum thinks if we ask the right questions we'll find out everything." Bill said, playing with his glass of wine. "But I think there are things of which we will always remain ignorant. And I think that's okay. I don't want to make him relieve everything if it's too hard. All three of them have changed so much already." He looked at Severus, unafraid of the cold black eyes. "Ron's a good man." He gestured toward Arthur at that comment, then at Severus, holding out his hand. "So is Harry."

Why was Bill implying Severus in describing Potter's attributes? Implying that they were somehow connected? However, Severus nodded. "I know."

Severus did not miss the brief, shared smile that passed between Arthur and Bill.

H.P.

"Everyone, if I could have your attention!" yelled Molly Weasley, quickly flicking her wand to light the darkened backyard with enchanted, floating candles and lights. Everyone stopped speaking and looked towards her. "I would like to say a few things."

She cleared her throat, her eyes misting as they raked across the crowd. "First off, I'd like to wish Harry here a very happy birthday." Everyone clapped and cheered. "I have had the pleasure of knowing Harry since he was just eleven years old, and couldn't be more proud of the young man he has grown to be." Harry smiled, his own eyes misting.

"There are a couple of things that Kingsley has brought that I thought would be perfect to give today." She said, clutching a package. "The first thing is two Order of Merlins, first class, for dedicating and nearly sacrificing their lives to fighting the Dark side. To Harry…and Severus."

Everyone clapped and cheered as Harry and Snape simultaneously said, "I can't take it."

"Can't take it, my arse!" Aberforth yelled. "Bloody heroes, you two of ya."

Harry laughed, gesturing Snape up to get the glass plaques from Kingsley, taking it and looking at it appreciatively. Snape's expression was guarded, but he examined the plaque with interest.

"And, there's one more thing." Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. "Harry, Severus, Ron, and Hermione have all been given Chocolate Frog cards!" Everyone clapped and cheered again, laughing. Mrs. Weasley handed Harry his card, which briefly described his history with Voldemort, the search for Horcruxes, and his eventual triumph.

"This is my finest hour." Ron announced proudly, holding his Chocolate Frog card like an enormous trophy. "I will be memorialized for hungry children to remember and appreciate forever." Hermione laughed at Ron, leaning her head against his shoulder as she examined her own card.

"Okay, that's all!" said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "Go back to enjoying the party!" The loud chatter recommenced.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, coming over to Harry, "would you like to stay here tonight? Severus said it was fine for one night."

Harry bit his lip, looking at Snape. "It's your birthday," Snape said quietly. "You should be with your friends."

Harry nodded, but still bit his lip. How could he explain that, strangely, he wanted to stay at home tonight? "But that, er, potion, Professor." He invented wildly, willing Snape to understand. "The one we were working on this morning? We have to add ingredients tonight. You can't do it alone."

Snape hesitated momentarily, looking at him in confusion, but went along with the lie. "It must have slipped my mind. You're right. You'll have to come back h- come back with me tonight."

Harry did not miss Snape tripping over the word "home". He smiled slightly.

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said, clearly seeing through the transparent fib and smiling slightly. "You'll have to go back home tonight." She emphasized _home_, and her smile became a bit wider.

Harry smiled back, but in the corner of his eye, saw George sitting alone, staring at the sky. His eyes looked dead, his expression lifeless.

Mrs. Weasley followed his gaze. "He's been having a tough time." She whispered, her eyes melancholy. "I've tried to get him to talk to people, to open up…it's just that none of us have ever been…suicidal. He doesn't think we understand."

"Suicidal?" Harry whispered, aghast. Mrs. Weasley nodded sadly.

Snape cleared his throat. "Perhaps I…could try speaking with him." Harry looked up at him in surprise. Mrs. Weasley looked confused.

"I was around his age when…Lily died." Snape clarified. "I experienced similar…emotions to your son directly following her death. Dumbledore helped me out of them; perhaps I could try to do the same for…George."

Harry nodded, remembering Snape's words in the Pensieve. Mrs. Weasley's tears began to spill over. "I don't know how to thank you." she said, clasping Snape's hands. He shook his head slightly and strode purposefully over to George.

Harry's heart warmed as he saw Snape sit down next to George on the grass. George did not seem to register his presence. After a moment's hesitation, Snape touched his shoulder lightly. George started, his expression a mask of surprise. Snape started speaking quietly, staring at the sky too, his words out of earshot from Harry. But after a few moments George's expression began to soften and lighten, in the smallest way.

Snape really wasn't so bad after all.

H.P.

Long after the good-bye hugs and handshakes and thank-yous of the night, Harry and Snape sat in the living room of the cottage drinking tea. Harry was carefully putting up the two Order of Merlins on the mantle of the fireplace, next to the Chocolate Frog cards. Snape had tried to throw his away, but Harry didn't let him.

"Was it a good birthday?" asked Snape carefully, seeming to appear indifferent.

Harry held his gaze. "The best I've ever had."

Snape's eyebrows shot up a bit at that. "It surpassed your eleventh?"

Harry shrugged. "I liked finding out that I was a wizard, but I was still living with the Dursley's. I rang in my birthday on the cold cement floor of a shack in the middle of the ocean."

"Those people are idiots." Snape declared distastefully. "Absolute idiots."

Harry smiled, sipping his tea contentedly. Ruminating on his past birthdays, he suddenly felt rather struck. "I can't believe it's my eighteenth birthday."

"Why not?"

Harry pressed his lips. "After the Pensieve, after this entire year, I really thought I was going to die. I never thought about my future, you know? I didn't think I'd have one." Suddenly, tears sprang to his eyes, much to his embarrassment. He shielded his face from Snape.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on the couch next to him, after a moment. He moved his hand to see that Snape had come to sit next to him, staring at the lake.

"Understandable." He said softly.

"It was one of the hardest things I've ever done." Harry said reflectively. "Walking into that forest, knowing Voldemort was going to kill me. It was...incredibly difficult."

Snape nodded. "I don't know anyone else who would have been brave enough to do that." He said sincerely, turning to look into Harry's eyes.

Harry paused for a moment. "I do." He said firmly. After a moment, he said softly, "And…Severus. If…if you ever need to talk about anything, get stuff off your chest…I'm always here. I will always listen."

Snape was regarding him with the oddest expression. "What?" asked Harry, a little defensively.

Snape shook his head slightly. "You're too good to me." He muttered.

Harry smiled, widely, and sidled a little closer to Snape. The man did not move away. "Same goes for you, Severus." Snape nodded.

Harry sighed contentedly.

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! The action is going to pick up a bit in the next chapter, as I build up to the climax (I'm still going to write several more chapters though). Please keep sharing your thoughts with me. I will update within the next week! **


	19. Teddy

S.S.

Severus stiffened as he felt Potter lean lightly against him. Severus was still wholly unused to these random attacks of affection, even though he didn't necessarily…hate them. After decades where most of the physical contact he'd had had resulted in his torture or great pain, a kind touch was as foreign to Severus as smiling.

After a few moments – of great discomfort for Severus, relaxed bliss for Potter – Severus heard light snoring. Rolling his eyes at the behavior of teenage boys, he extricated himself from Potter and the boy dropped onto the couch. Severus levitated a blanket onto him and after a moment, took off his glasses and placed them on the coffee table.

He was _not_ going soft. The boy's glasses needed to be taken off so they would not break in his idiotic slumber-induced movements. A partially blind Potter would be practically unbearable, the boy was idiotic enough.

_No_, Severus thought, as he climbed the stairs trying to stomp loudly to wake Potter up, _I am certainly _not_ going soft_.

H.P.

The next day Harry received a letter from Andromeda that, at his request, she would meet with Narcissa, but only if he was present to act as a buffer. He looked at it as an excuse to spend time with his godson, so he quickly agreed. Two days later, he sat anxiously on the couch of Snape's home in Spinner's End while Snape sat beside him, irritated. Harry had asked him to stay in case things went...astray.

"Remind me again why you volunteered to orchestrate a reunion between the wife of a Death Eater and mother of an Order member - who, may I add, was killed in the war? By a Death Eater?" Snape said, annoyed.

"They're _sisters_." Harry said.

"So were Bellatrix and Andromeda." Snape said darkly.

Harry rolled his eyes as Narcissa stepped out of the fireplace. "Severus!" she exclaimed, hugging Snape and Harry as they stood up. "Po - Harry," she said, "I really can't thank you enough for doing this…" she wrung her hands anxiously. "I just hope she listens to me."

"She will." Harry said confidently.

At his words, Andromeda stepped out of the fireplace behind her sister, holding a fussy, purple-haired baby. For a split second, Harry saw Snape go for his wand due to her shocking resemblance to Bellatrix. But Harry saw the man's chest deflate as he took in her face in more detail.

"Harry," said Andromeda, her anxious face a mirror image of her sister's. "Severus." Snape nodded back to her.

The two sisters stood across from each other in utter silence while Teddy squirmed in his grandmother's arms, reaching for Harry and grinning. Harry quietly took the baby from Andromeda's arms, but he didn't even think she noticed. She looked at Narcissa's face, transfixed. Harry followed her gaze and, startled, saw that tears were dripping down Narcissa's high cheekbones, shattering her icy demeanor.

"Andie," she whispered, her enormous blue eyes overflowing, her face twisted with regret, "please forgive me."

Andromeda's eyes too became thick with tears and after several tense moments, the sisters were in each other's arms, both sobbing uncontrollably and clutching each other's shoulders.

Harry stole a glance at Snape, amused by the man's utterly disgusted expression. "Thank Merlin I never had siblings." He muttered.

"Let's go to the kitchen," Harry said, ducking out of the room and into the small kitchen. He could still hear Narcissa's and Andromeda's loud sobs and apologies and stifled a laugh as Snape's expression grew more repulsed.

"At least it's going well!" Harry stated brightly, tickling the baby on his lap. "I thought Andromeda might be a bit more, er, reserved."

"It is amazing that she was in Slytherin," Snape mused, as if insulted on behalf of his house. "Given her ridiculous tendency to forgive."

"She was in Slytherin?" Harry asked incredulously. Then he frowned. "There's nothing wrong with forgiveness, Snape."

At his words, Narcissa was heard giving a strangled cry. Muffled whispers followed her outburst as Andromeda tried to soothe her sister. Teddy looked up in interest, recognizing his grandmother's voice, and then smiled toothlessly at Harry.

"Who do you think he looks more like?" Harry asked Snape, who was pointedly looking anywhere but the baby. The older man grunted noncommittally and Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you have a problem with babies, Snape?"

Snape stiffened. "I have never been fond of…small humans."

"Small humans?" Harry snorted. He tousled the baby's hair affectionately. "Don't mind Uncle Severus, Teddy." He whispered conspiratorially. "He seems like a grump but he's really not."

"Uncle Severus?" Snape asked, spluttering as he choked on his coffee. "_No_."

Harry smiled, hitting Snape on the back to prevent him from choking. Teddy observed the interaction with a small, mild-mannered smile incredibly reminiscent of his father.

"He looks like Remus." Harry said decisively . At his words, the baby reached out an arm to Snape, inadvertently knocking over Snape's coffee cup in the process. The scalding hot liquid dripped quickly down the table, spilling all over the dirty floor. Teddy grimaced in apology and embarrassment, an expression incredibly reminiscent of Tonks.

"Or his mother." Snape commented darkly, scowling as he _Scourgified_ the mess.

Teddy spent the next several minutes reaching for Snape as he and Harry talked, which both confused and amused Harry. Struck by sudden inspiration, Harry got up and before Snape could protest, dropped the baby onto the man's lap. "I'll go see how they are." Harry said, smirking.

He watched as Snape made no attempt to touch the baby, but just stared him as though he were a foreign object. Teddy stared up at him with curious grey eyes, and suddenly changed his bulbous nose to a long, hooked one like Snape's. At the man's expression of surprise Harry slipped into the living room.

Andromeda and Narcissa were sitting side by side on Snape's old sofa, sharing photos with each other.

"He's a carbon copy of you!" Andromeda was exclaiming as Narcissa held out a picture of Draco.

"Really? Everyone says he looks like Lucius!"

Andromeda shook her head. "You have an identical smile. A little crooked." Andromeda smiled and Narcissa laughed, poking her.

"I'm happy you two are getting along!" said Harry brightly, walking over to the two women.

"We are," Andromeda said, smiling. "Where's Teddy? I want Cissy to see him."

"He's with Snape."

"You left a baby with Snape?" asked Narcissa, surprised. "We should go rescue him before Severus kills him with a glare."

The three stood and walked to the doorway, but stopped short at the sight they saw.

Teddy was still on Snape's lap, changing his hair color and nose shape as he looked up at Snape's face. The man was holding him gently now, supporting his back and head with firm hands. But the oddest thing was Snape's expression. Gone was the face of disgust and unfamiliarity; his expression was amused, even affectionate, as he looked down at the small baby. His features were still guarded as usual, but a small smile flitted across his face. Despite his keen senses, he didn't even hear Harry and the two sisters enter the doorway, he was so transfixed.

"Merlin," Narcissa breathed, her eyes wide. "Who knew Severus Snape could actually smile."

"I wish I had a camera." Harry commented wistfully.

The three stood in the doorway, grinning as they watched the man lose his cruel and cold façade at the hands of a baby. After a few minutes, he sensed the others' presence, and quickly schooled his features to their neutral and impassive expression.

"The boy seems to have inherited Nymphadora's Metamorphagus abilities." He stated unnecessarily, speaking stiffly.

"I'll say," said Andromeda, smiling, gently lifting Teddy out of Snape's arms. "Teddy, this is Auntie Cissy. Say hi."

Narcissa hesitated as Teddy reached out for her to hold him, but it was not disdain at the child's half-werewolf status as Harry had thought, but unease at how Andromeda would react. "Take him," Andromeda encouraged. Narcissa took the baby in her arms and almost immediately began cooing, further shattering her icy façade.

"Who knew she was so cuddly," Harry muttered, amused.

Snape was observing the interaction as though sickened. Harry stifled a laugh, imagining that Snape was probably not too fond of baby talk.

After Narcissa had had her fill of kissing and cuddling the baby, she gently put him back in Harry's arms. "Cissy and I are going to go talk for a little while, do you mind watching him?"

"Of course not!" Harry said enthusiastically. With a sly grin at Snape, both sisters returned to the living room, walking close together. Harry deposited the baby back in Snape's arms, at which the man scowled, but obeyed. "I'm going to make lunch!"

As Harry cut ingredients he tactfully pretended to ignore Snape's muffled snorts as Teddy sprouted an enormous green afro. To imagine that this man had one instilled living fear in first and seventh years alike! He was really _such_ a softie.

As Harry sat down to eat, he watched Snape's strong hands grasp Teddy as the baby threatened to clumsily fall over. He was again struck by the thought that Snape would have been an excellent father.

"Question." Harry said.

Snape rolled his eyes dramatically. "It seems all you do is ask questions, Potter." He smirked. "Perhaps you can go into the media. Become Skeeter's protégée."

Now Harry rolled his eyes, but continued with his question, looking at Teddy. "Would you have stayed a Death Eater if the prophecy had never been made?"

Snape's expression suddenly turned grave and serious. He lifted his eyes, dark and full of regret, to look out the window. He did not respond for several moments but eventually spoke in a soft but harsh whisper. "That is a question I ask myself every day."

Harry bit his lip. "I think you would have eventually seen the error of your ways."

"Then you have far too much faith in me."

"Look at how you interact with him," disagreed Harry softly, gesturing at Teddy, who was now snoozing lightly in the crook of Snape's arms.

"Potter, I was ready and willing to sacrifice you, a baby just like this, and your father, just to save your mother." Snape said, his voice harsh. "Stop with these foolish notions of my goodness."

"Not a lot of Death Eaters would let a baby fall asleep on them like that. The son of an old enemy, no less." He paused. "I think that you would have seen the life you lost, eventually." He gestured back to Teddy.

Snape followed his gaze to the baby. "I was so foolish." He muttered, as if to himself.

"Well, you've sort of made up for it. Saving the wizarding world and all." Harry smiled as Teddy snuggled up more against Snape's robes and let out a sigh of contentment.

Snape was staring at Harry with the oddest expression. It almost looked like gratitude.

"Would you like to go flying this afternoon?" he asked suddenly.

"That'd be brilliant!" Harry exclaimed eagerly. "It's safe?"

Snape nodded. "I know a place. I…used to go there with your mother."

Harry nodded as Narcissa and Andromeda came back into the room, their faces tear-stained but happy.

"Oh, he's already fallen asleep!" Andromeda exclaimed. "He must really like you, Severus. He's not that comfortable with everyone."

Snape gave a small, noncommittal snort, but as Andromeda said goodbye and lifted Teddy from Snape's arms, Harry did not miss the little pat the man gave to the baby's multi-colored head.

"Thank you, Harry." Narcissa said sincerely, giving Harry a brief hug. "I can't really thank you for reaching out to Andie. I wasn't brave enough to do it myself."

"You're plenty brave, Cissy." Andromeda chided, but echoed her sister's thanks as she tightly hugged Harry and shook Snape's hand. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you two again, soon. Once our sister's – " her mouth contorted a little "twisted husband is found and killed. You can come visit your godson any time, Harry."

With final nods, the two sisters and baby perished into the fireplace. Snape watched the fireplace for a little while after their departure.

"Babies aren't so bad, right?" Harry asked teasingly.

He smirked and threw a pillow at Harry. "When they're small and mute, no. When they're eighteen and have a scar on their forehead, yes."

H.P.

As promised, that afternoon Harry and Snape went flying in a small clearing to which they Apparated. Harry had pressed Snape for details about coming here with his mum, but he had closed off immediately and Harry, not wanting to upset him, backed off.

Harry had asked Snape if he had a broomstick and Snape had scoffed loudly, saying he would never be caught dead on one, that he had other methods of being airborne. Harry remembered with a start that Snape could fly.

After Snape heavily warded the area, the two men took off. Harry watched, transfixed, as Snape flew with the speed and agility of a bird, feeling rather ashamed of his own broomstick. "Can you teach me?" Harry called loudly.

"We'll see," Snape called back, his voice slightly breathless but still authoritarian. Harry rolled his eyes and continued to dart all around Snape, trying to disorient him.

After an hour Snape called out that he needed a break, as he was totally exhausted, and would return in ten minutes. He descended below the clouds, entirely unsupported, as Harry watched with admiration and a twinge of jealousy.

Harry took this opportunity to fly higher than before, higher than Snape probably would have permitted could he see what Harry was doing, but Harry felt a sudden sense of recklessness. Being back on a broom, feeling the euphoria of being airborne, he flew higher and higher and practiced his old Quidditch twists and turns. He was only pulled out of his reverie when a voice called, "Potter!"

Harry flew below to see Snape amidst the clouds. His voice sounded slightly deeper than usual – perhaps because he was tired. Harry was bemused to see that the man was on a broomstick, grasping it with agility and comfort.

"Why are you on that?" Harry asked, gesturing at the broom.

"Flying tired me out." Snape said shortly. His voice still sounded off.

"But you just went on a long dissertation about how you hate broomsticks…" Harry said, trailing off.

"I had a change of heart." Snape snapped.

"Hold on, where are your glasses?" Harry asked, even more confused.

"I don't wear glasses, idiot boy." Snape said coldly. Now his voice sounded almost familiar, but not like Snape's. Could fatigue really change a voice that much?

Harry looked at him strangely. "Yes, you do." Was Snape going barmy?

Something briefly passed through Snape's eyes and in observing his face, Harry noticed that it no longer possessed any of the relaxed content (well, as much as Snape could have) that it had had before, but was etched with harsh lines of anger. "I took them off down there. I can see out here." He snapped.

Harry was growing slightly suspicious that Snape had suffered a concussion, or some kind of brain injury that caused short-term memory loss. "I'm sorry, it's not you that wears glasses – it's your brother. I was confused." Harry tested him.

"Yes," Snape said airily, a brief expression of relief flitting through his features, "my brother, he wears glasses. Got them when we were kids." He added.

Harry's heart hammered and his blood chilled at the man's words.

Snape didn't have a brother.


	20. Black Basin

Severus descended from the clouds gracefully, remembering with a grimace how eager he had been when Voldemort first taught him to fly. He had been an insecure, desperate eighteen-year-old, over the moon with joy that his master had chosen to teach a special skill to _him_. Severus could still remember the hateful, envious looks – especially that of Bellatrix Lestrange – that the other Death Eaters had shot him as he grinned, wholly unused to receiving any special treatment or attention.

He hit the ground softly, casting a glance upward to see Potter, but couldn't see because of the clouds. Severus hoped the boy could manage to stay alive for ten minutes without doing some ridiculous, life-threatening broomstick stunt – on second thought, perhaps he should only rest for five minutes…

Severus sat down lightly on the grass, breathing deeply and, for once, enjoying the pleasant weather, casting his eyes around the blissfully empty, warded field. The sun really wasn't so bad, Severus mused, the light was actually kind of nice. He sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

Before he could grab his wand, he heard a noise behind him and a millisecond after his wand flew out of his pocket, he felt his body constricted in tight metal coils. Barely able to breathe, his heart hammering wildly, he shifted his gaze upward.

"Hello, Severus." Said Rudolphus Lestrange.

S.S.

Severus, though out of practice, schooled his features into a calm, detached expression as though he were immobile, entirely at the man's mercy. "Rudolphus." He rasped.

"I remember when the Dark Lord taught you to fly, Severus." Rudolphus reflected, walking slowly around Severus as the prostrate man tried desperately to think of a plan. "We were all so…envious." He hissed the word. "But look at how you turned out. A nasty, pathetic, Mudblood-loving…_traitor_."

Severus did not resist or offer any change in expression. He knew of the man's explosive temper; he just hoped Potter stayed in the air by himself and Rudolphus took just him. Thinking of Potter, and how he was in absolutely no position to help or protect the boy, Severus's heart thumped faster.

"Where is the boy?" Rudolphus asked, seeming to read his thoughts. "Ah – airborne. I heard he was a skilled flier." He pulled something out of his robes and before Severus could react, crouched and plucked a hair from Severus's head. He dropped the hair in a small flask – Polyjuice Potion. "I could just get him up there myself, but that might be a little tricky. I'll have a little fun with him, won't I?"

Severus's eyes widened minutely as Rudolphus drank from the flask, grimacing. He watched in horror as the man's features became distorted and rapidly began to change.

While he was transforming and distracted, Severus took the opportunity to do something – anything – that would alert Potter. With great difficulty he turned onto his side, crushing the glasses beside him. Was Potter astute enough to notice if Severus – well, imposter Severus – wasn't wearing glasses?

_Probably not_, Severus thought with an internal groan.

Scowling, Severus looked up in horror to see a carbon copy of himself, wearing identical clothes to his now, sporting an expression of disdain and supremacy.

Rudolphus – disguised as Severus – looked to the sky with faint disappointment. "Well, I can't very well fly." He quickly summoned a broomstick from somewhere on Seversus's right side and mounted it with a sly smirk. "Don't go anywhere while I'm gone." With a quick flick of his wand, he set a Disillusionment charm on Severus, rendering him invisible.

Severus closed his eyes in fear and anger as Rudolphus ascended above the clouds.

H.P.

Harry's heart thumped as he regarded the man before him. He looked like Snape, acted like Snape…but he didn't talk like Snape.

But who was he to say? Snape was incredibly moody. Perhaps that could manifest itself into temporary delusions? But Snape wouldn't imagine that he had a brother…would he?

"Er, maybe we should leave." Harry said uneasily. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Snape said. "If you wish to leave now, let's go." He pointed his broomstick downwards, accelerating at a great speed as he touched the ground and got off. Harry descended next to him, feeling slightly wary.

Snape cleared his throat, and Harry suddenly had a realization that knocked the wind out of him. He had heard that same sound three years ago…at the Ministry. When the Death Eaters had come, when Voldemort was trying to get the prophecy.

Exactly as Harry spun around to curse Rudolphus Lestrange, he felt his body fall to the ground, bound by tight coils, as his wand flew out of his hand and into Lestrange's. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lestrange – still disguised as Snape, probably by Polyjuice Potion – flick his wand and suddenly Snape, also bound by tight coils, materialized on the ground beside him. Harry met Snape's dark eyes, which widened considerably as if to say, _Don't do anything_. Harry stared back, nodding as much as he could in acquiescence. Harry's fear and worry must have shown on his face, because after a second, Snape emphatically mouthed _Relax_.

"Poor little Potter," Rudolphus said, his voice simpering. "So…trusting. Has old Snape here not taught you _anything_?" He cast a sideways glance and with a swish of his wand, ignited Harry's new broom into flames. "We can't have that." He then looked up at the sky in mock reflection. "Although it's funny really, Snape – for all of your so-called genius and talent, you couldn't even protect Potter." He looked at Snape evilly, the cruel faux black eyes staring into the real, fearful ones. "Just like…Lily Potter. But I mean, at least you haven't_ killed_ the boy!" At the sound of his mirthless laughter, Harry's blood chilled.

"Just like when we were seventeen, Severus," Rudolphus said, leaning down so his hooked nose was inches from Snape's, "you're an ugly, pathetic, desperate loser who nobody has ever wanted and who, certainly, nobody would be blind enough to love-"

"SHUT UP!" Harry screamed suddenly. Snape sent him a glare but Harry ignored it. "DON'T TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!"

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, you filthy half-blood!" Rudolphus roared, his face – still Snape's – distorting in rage. "_Crucio_!"

Suddenly, Harry's bones were on fire, every inch of him screaming for release, all of his limbs white-hot with pain. Although his eyes were squeezed shut, he opened them briefly to see Snape's face, staring at him, his expression impassive but betraying small hints of pain – but Rudolphus's wand was pointed at Harry, why did Snape look like he was hurting –

After several agonizing moments, it was over. Harry's limbs went weak as he closed his eyes, panting. He raised his eyes to look at Rudolphus, but he was staring at Snape, a confused expression flitting over his features.

"Well," he breathed, his bewilderment smoothing into understanding, "Severus, I believe hell must be freezing over." His eyes flitted to Harry. "Could it be that you have…grown to _care_…for _Harry Potter_?"

Severus remained completely emotionless, staring at Rudolphus with loathing.

"It seems I may have to adjust my plans," Rudolphus said, raising his eyebrows. "A change of scenery is necessary." He suddenly reached out, conjuring both Harry and Snape to him, still bound, and harshly grasping their hands, stowing his wand in his pocket. His hand was hard and rough grabbing Harry's as they Apparated away.

S.S.

The three men appeared in a small, shadowy, squalid basement filled with an assortment of old objects and rotting food. Potter and Severus were suddenly pushed against the side of the room and bound by chains on their ankles, waists, wrists, and necks against the filthy brick wall.

Severus's mind was racing with escape plans. Lestrange still had their wands…Severus had seriously underestimated the man's magical capabilities, he had clearly learned a trick or two from his late wife…but Severus was still more powerful, he was sure…

"You may be wondering where we are." Lestrange said, his disguised features contorting into a smirk. "Sadly, I have had to leave Lestrange Manor. But," he said emphatically, his smirk becoming a twisted grin, "I had a little time to grab some personal belongings before leaving."

He shifted his face towards a shadowed corner, where a large, gold-embossed portrait was fixed to the wall. Severus realized with an internal groan that the object of the portrait was a sleeping Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Bella," Rudolphus purred softly, his entire countenance changing, "look who I finally found."

Portrait Bellatrix opened her insane eyes, her entire face contorting into rage as she looked at Severus and Potter. Severus marveled at how he had withstood countless Death Eater meetings next to the woman and didn't kill her.

"_TRAITOR_!" she roared, foaming at the mouth as she began screaming obscenities at Severus and Potter. He had never seen her lose control quite so insanely, which was saying something. Despite the desperate situation, Severus was at least relieved that she was bound by the frame of her portrait.

As his wife's portrait was bellowing, Rudolphus suddenly began to transform back into himself. Severus watched with a grotesque fascination as his own features melted away to reveal Rudolphus's hardened face. The once-handsome countenance was now covered in a mangle of wild hair and beard, with crazily glinting eyes to match. He still wore Severus's Transfigured robes, which looked out of place on the emaciated, haggard man.

Severus desperately tried to think of a way to save Potter. His own life suddenly mattered little; but the one of the young man chained next to him, those green eyes wide in fear, panting slightly, mattered more than anything else in the world.

Once Bellatrix had finished her tirade, she looked to her husband, her eyes shining madly. "I want you to torture them until they're on the brink of death. UNTIL THEY'RE BEGGINNG FOR MERCY!" she roared. Rudolphus nodded quickly, as if used to following her orders.

"I have been looking for you two for a long time, Potter and Severus," Rudolphus said, sitting down on an old chair as if settling in for a long conversation. "You were remarkably hard to track down."

"What do you want from us?" Potter asked angrily. Severus closed his eyes, willing the boy to shut up.

"Want from you?" Rudolphus breathed. "You both brought about the death of the Dark Lord…and my _wife_." He hissed. "The Weasley woman, and her entire family, I will attend to later" – Severus saw Potter's face grow paler – "but that will be much easier once you two are finished."

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room and stroking his filthy beard as if in deep contemplation. "Now, how to best torture you." Suddenly he hissed and an enormous snake slithered next to him, from the corners of the room. Severus recognized it as the snake that had been in his yard and internally punched himself for saving its life. "Or rather," Rudolphus continued, "before Parsel eats it. Just like before, right, Severus?"

He turned his shadowed eyes on Potter and Severus, squinting slightly despite the darkness of the room. "It certainly changes things knowing of this…relationship between the two of you. You have something for green eyes, don't you, Severus? Although I must say, Lily Potter was a little more shapely than this one." He jerked a thumb at Potter.

Severus felt his blood boil, but bit his tongue. He glanced over to see Potter's jaw clenched in fury. "Don't talk about my mum like that!" He yelled furiously.

"Of course," Rudolphus continued, ignoring Potter, "Lily's body was just about the only thing she had going for her. She was a _Mudblood_, of course!" He laughed mirthlessly.

Now Severus and Potter were both positively shaking with rage. Portrait Bellatrix glared at their clanking chains and raised her eyebrows as though suddenly inspired.

"Use the Tenebrae," Bellatrix hissed, eyeing Severus and Potter with the utmost disgust. "I want to see some emotional torture first." Rudolphus hesitated for a moment, but after a second acquiesced and said "_Accio Tenebrae_".

Suddenly a black basin flew out of the shadows and into Rudolphus's hands. It looked a bit like a Pensieve. Severus remembered reading about it and closed his eyes in realization.

"For those of you ignorant to this object's purpose," Rudolphus said as though lecturing, "upon entrance, it forces the person to relive their worst memories. It's only designed for one, but I think if Potter sees some images of his mum that will be pretty painful, right?" He smiled evilly. "Killing two birds with one stone."

Suddenly Severus felt the chains fall off, but felt his body being pushed forward as though by an invisible hand. A clanking noise beside him indicated that the same thing was happening to Potter.

"Enjoy seeing the woman you murdered," Rudolphus purred, and the last thing Severus saw before he was magicked into the basin was the man's cruel, smiling face.

H.P.

Harry felt as though he were falling through miles of chilly darkness. It was almost as though being in the aftermath of several Dementors.

"Are you okay?" he called to Snape, whom he could distantly make out falling next to him.

"Potter, be prepared." Snape called back. What did that mean?

Suddenly, with a small thud, Harry fell on a hard stone floor. Rubbing the stars out of his eyes, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. With a small start, he realized he was in the hallway of the Gryffindor common room's portrait.

He looked down at Snape next to him, a large heap of black robes. Harry took in the torches and portraits as the man came to his feet.

"Where are we, Snape?" he asked hurriedly, glancing out the ornate windows as though they would tell him the date. "Are we in the past? Is this like a Pensieve? What's going – "

"Hold on, Potter." A voice said. It sounded like Snape's but was slightly…higher? Harry spun around, fearing that Rudolphus had followed them.

But when he saw the person before him, saw the scowling face and pallid skin and dark hair, Harry knew it was Snape. However, the black eyes were at Harry's level – his skin was unlined, his hair completely black –

Harry was staring at a fifteen-year-old Severus Snape.


	21. An Invisible Protector

**A/N: Thank you to all you who have been favoriting/following/reviewing! just as a note, there will NOT be any emotional/physical torture in this story beyond crucio. Also, this is not turning into a de-aging fic. The sudden turn of events in the last chapter will (hopefully) make sense in the next few chapters! Happy reading, please keep reviewing!**

H.P.

Snape was examining his arms and hands – free of callouses and lines – with an oddly self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"What is it, Snape?" asked Harry edgily, staring at the man with wide eyes. "What's going on?"

"Shut up, Potter." He said distractedly.

Suddenly, a tall boy of about thirteen approached the Gryffindor common room portrait. He shot a rather nervous glance at Snape but looked through Harry as though he could not see him at all. When he entered the room and disappeared from sight, Snape's smugness intensified.

"It worked." He said evasively.

"_What _worked?" asked Harry, annoyed and totally bewildered.

"I was able to mix a potion in with the contents of the basin before we entered," Snape explained. "It acts – "

"Wait, but you didn't have your wand."

Snape gave him an incredibly patronizing look, which seemed rather out of place on his much younger face. "Potter, please do not insult my abilities by implying that I cannot do wandless magic. Any witch or wizard with the merest intelligence can do so, and the potion was in my pocket." He paused. "And, do not interrupt me. As I was saying, the potion is a "light" diluter to Dark artifacts, usually Dark potions – it alleviates, though does not eliminate, their effects. I carry it with me at all times. If we were in a normal Tenebrae – a sort of Dark pensieve, if you will – I would still be an adult and we would merely be viewing the memories."

"But you're…young." Harry said unnecessarily.

"Potter, your phenomenal intelligence never fails to astound me." Snape said snarkily. "Yes, it appears that I am fifteen again. It seems that I will be reliving this time of my life, not forced to watch it…" he trailed off in thought.

"So…it's acting like a Time Turner?"

Snape bit his lip, looking strangely young. "I do not know. I only used the diluter to avoid some of my extremely painful memories to which I did not want to subject you…but I am unsure of its effects. They could be…unexpected." He admitted.

Harry bit his own lip uneasily.

"What's the date?" asked Harry quietly, although he already had a rough idea of what day in Snape's life they were revisiting.

Snape did a small twirl in the air with his wand and paused before speaking. "The day I took my Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L." He said softly. "If my timing is correct…your mother just rejected my apology."

Both men suddenly gasped as they realized what their current position meant: they would see Lily again. She was only feet away from them, through the wall, in the common room. Lost in their thoughts, it was several moments before Harry spoke again.

"Am I invisible?" he asked.

"Yes, it would appear that you are invisible to all but me." Snape said, offhandedly, after a while. "Since you were not yet alive during this time, you could not play a part in reliving it. But again, I am unsure of the potion's effects…" He reached into his robes and took out his wand. "See if you can do magic."

Harry took the long wand and startled as he realized that it felt oddly warm and appropriate in his hand. "_Lumos_," he muttered, and a light erupted at the end of the wand. He smiled.

"How strange," Snape muttered, his brow furrowed as though in deep thought.

Suddenly, Harry heard familiar voices down the hall. His heart skipped a beat as he saw two familiar heads of black hair: his dad and Sirius. "_Petrificus Totalus_!_"_ a voice yelled, and suddenly, Snape was paralyzed and propped against the wall.

"Snivellus!" James said, drawing closer, clearly delighted at finding Snape and not seeing Harry or his lit wand. Harry's heart thumped as he took in his fifteen-year-old father and godfather, feeling an odd mix of euphoria and dread. "Whatever are you doing near _our _common room?"

"Yeah, Snivelly, this is for _Gryffindors,_" Sirius said emphatically. "Last time I checked, slimy, greasy, ugly gits weren't allowed – "

Harry clenched his jaw, forgetting to help Snape in his anger. What the hell was wrong with them?

"You know, Snivellus," said James in a mock-stern voice, "you really ought to wash your underwear. It's just gross, you see. You wouldn't want any witches to see those." He smirked.

"Ah, Padfoot, I don't think any witches will _ever_ be seeing Snivelly's underwear," Sirius said airily, and both erupted into gales of laughter while Snape remained paralyzed. Fuming, Harry muttered the countercurse and freed him. Snape stood up and brushed himself off, smiling slightly at the surprised looks of James and Sirius.

"Leave me alone." He said coolly, with undeniable authority.

But James and Sirius just laughed harder as he tried to walk away. "Who does he think he is?" James asked. "_Levi_-"

But before he could finish the spell, Harry fired the jelly-legs jinx at both his dad and godfather, and suddenly both were uncontrollably wobbling around, falling all over each other. "_Stop this_!" Sirius hissed menacingly, but Snape just frowned and walked away, towards the direction of the dungeons. Harry followed behind, still clutching his wand.

"Potter, you need to be careful." Snape whispered as they walked down the stairs, ceasing to speak when they walked by people. "People know that I am intelligent, but they may become suspicious if I appear to start doing complex wandless magic like that."

"I couldn't help it." Harry said immediately. "They were being such arses to you."

Snape's expression softened slightly. "You best be prepared, Potter. Your father and Black do much worse than that."

Harry didn't know how to respond. The two walked in silence as Severus continued to examine his younger self. Although Harry was extremely afraid and confused, a small part of him was delighted to be back at the castle, especially as it was still whole, not yet ravaged by battle or war. He took in the familiar halls and portraits with a small smile that only Snape could see.

Before he knew it, the two were standing before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, where Harry had only been once before, what seemed like centuries ago. But to Harry's surprise, Snape pulled him aside into a broom closet and muttered, "_Muffliato_." Harry stared waiting for him to speak, feeling anxious.

"Potter." Snape began. "I am unsure how long we will be in this…predicament. We may be transported to other memories. But I am assuming that we will be here for at least a few days, as the aftermath of the end of my friendship with Lily was extremely…painful." He paused. "You will soon meet my roommates. No matter," and suddenly he looked stern, "what they say, what they do, how they act – you_ cannot_ curse them. I do not want to arouse suspicion that anything is…remiss."

"But why not?" Harry asked stubbornly. "It's not like anything we do could affect anything in the real world – might as well – "

"We don't know that." Snape said carefully.

Mystified, Harry stared but eventually nodded.

"Also, I will only be able to speak with you at night." Snape continued. "I do not want people to question my sanity if they think I am talking to myself." Harry nodded. "Remember, Potter," Snape said sternly, "_no _childish outbursts – or there _will_ be consequences."

The two turned back to the blank stone wall. "Salazar." Snape muttered as a password, and a concealed stone door slid aside to reveal a rectangular hole in the wall. The two clambered through it and into a dim, cold-looking room filled with green light due to its location under the lake.

Snape made to go down one of the staircases, presumably to his dormitory, but was stopped by a tall boy with thick, dirty blond hair. "Severus!"

Snape turned back slowly, his expression inscrutable. "Mulciber."

"Come here, sit down," Mulciber said, but with an undertone of authority, gesturing at the group of chairs where him and several other boys were sitting. "We want to congratulate you."

Snape slowly walked towards the chair, but did not sit. "About what?"

The boys seemed slightly taken aback by his refusal to listen to Mulciber. Nevertheless, the blond boy continued. "For what happened at the lake. You finally shook off the Mudblood." He said. Harry clenched his jaw. "I mean, we've been telling you for years that she's a piece of trash. I'm glad you've finally come to your senses."

Snape's eyes flashed, but Harry thought he was the only one that noticed.

"I, too, am glad that I have come to my senses." Snape said slowly. The boys nodded in agreement, but only Harry picked up on the double meaning behind his words.

"You'll have more time to focus on the things that _really_ matter." Mulciber said meaningfully.

Snape nodded shortly. "I'm going to bed." He announced.

"Good night, Severus." Another boy, with curly black hair, said, standing up. "Well done, again."

Severus quickly descended the staircase, Harry close behind him, remembering not to speak. As Snape approached a large stone door, both men heard a squeaky voice call, "Severus!"

Harry turned and uttered a small gasp. Standing before him was a smaller, slighter, but equally handsome version of Sirius. But unlike his brother, he had bright blue eyes.

"Re-Regulus." Snape breathed. Harry glanced at Snape and was startled to see that the man's eyes were glassy.

"Oh no," Regulus said, clearly panicking a little, "you never cry. Are you that upset?" He grabbed Snape's arm, and Snape continued to gaze at him with the same sad expression. "Come on, let's go in here," he said, pushing open the door and leading Snape into it. Harry followed close behind.

The room was blissfully empty. Snape sat on what Harry figured was his bed and Regulus sat down gingerly next to him. The younger boy cast a quick Muffliato.

"Look, Severus," Regulus said, taking on a suddenly stern tone, "I know that you're bloody awful at talking about feelings, but if you, er, want to talk about today…" He cleared his throat. "Talk."

Snape continued to stare at him, the tears becoming slightly more pronounced. Harry saw that he was trying to gain control but was clearly failing miserably.

"Severus!" Regulus said uneasily. "Please, just talk." He crinkled his eyes. "I don't like seeing you like this." When Snape remained mute, Regulus eyed him critically. "Severus, did – were you, er, in love with Evans?" He reddened and added hastily, "Never mind! I don't want to have that conversation!" He sighed. "Mate, I'm trying to help you."

Snape finally came out of his reverie. "Thank you, Regulus." He said softly. "I am fine."

Regulus seemed relieved that Snape had spoken, but shook his head. "You're not fine!" He sighed again. "If I had been there, none of that would have happened. Instead I was in bloody Professor Binn's class, sound asleep." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry about my brother. He really is such an arse."

"It's not your fault." Snape said quietly. He continued to stare at Regulus, his face a wide range of emotions. His wise, regretful expression looked out of place on his young features.

Snape's eyes glistened dangerously again, and Regulus looked slightly horrified. Harry stifled back laughter. "Severus," Regulus said quietly, "I know you didn't mean to say that word. And I bet she knows it too. You were embarrassed – "

"That's not it, though, Regulus." Snape said, speaking finally. "It was just the final straw. I mean, look at what I'm doing with my life," He laughed mercilessly. "I'm aiming to join a group of people dedicated to killing people like Lily! No wonder she can't stand the sight of me!"

Regulus bit his lip, appearing uneasy. "Would you choose Evans over You-Know-Who?"  
Snape opened his mouth and then closed it. Harry could tell he was internally debating whether to stay in character, stay true to how he had actually acted at the time, or act of his own volition.

"Yes." He finally said, quietly.

Regulus looked surprised. "That's a lot to sacrifice." He said, his eyes wide.

"Some people are worth it." Snape said simply.

Regulus paused, but nodded. "I know." He cast a glance toward the ceiling as if towards his brother in Gryffindor Tower. "I understand that."

Snape cleared his throat before continuing. "But Regulus." He looked intently into the younger boy's blue eyes. "Thank you for talking to me. I – I appreciate it."

Regulus was staring at him with fascination. "Who are you and what have you done with Severus Snape!" he asked, laughing and punching Snape lightly. "I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say!" Snape returned the smile slightly.

Regulus then yawned and leaned back slightly. "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Snape answered honestly.

"Give her some time." Regulus advised. "If…if you really are no longer planning on joining You-Know-Who, I bet she would like to know that."

Snape nodded, his eyes briefly flitting over to Harry. "I'm going to bed. Night, Regulus."

Regulus nodded and then awkwardly pushed his shoulder against Snape's.

"What was that?" asked Snape, sneering slightly.

"It was supposed to be a hug," Regulus said wistfully, standing up. "We totally had a moment. But I figured you weren't much of a hugger."

Snape bit his lip and, after a moment's hesitation, stood up and pulled Regulus into a brief, tight embrace. "Never speak of this." He said gruffly.

Regulus smiled when they broke apart. "I think you finally woke up on the right side of the bed today, Severus!" He said brightly. "I'll see you in the morning." And with that, he left the room.

Severus sighed heavily and sat back down on his bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

"Was that hard?" Harry asked softly, sitting where Regulus had been.

Snape paused. "Incredibly." He whispered stiffly.

"Seeing my mum will be harder." Harry stated. "Not only for you, but for me too."  
Snape nodded, sitting up and looking around the room with simultaneous interest and resignation. "It is so strange to be back here." He muttered.

Harry nodded. "Can I give you some advice?" he asked cautiously.

Snape stopped looking around and glared at him. "Potter, I don't need your advice."

"I think you should do what you want." Harry said, ignoring him. "Ignore the other Death Eaters – I mean, your Slytherin friends – and apologize to my mum again. Tell her you're done with them. There's no point in doing the same thing you did when this all happened."

Snape did not speak for several moments. "It will be too painful to see what my life could have been like." He said, his voice full of pain.

Harry nodded, but cocked his head slightly in disagreement. "Or it could bring you some peace."

Snape didn't respond, but laid back as though suddenly exhausted. "We shouldn't have gone flying." He muttered. "It was foolish of me to think it was a good idea. Rudolphus would never have found us, we would be back at the cottage – "

"It's not your fault." Harry disagreed. "You were trying to do something nice for me. Don't worry; we'll get out of this."

Snape snorted. "You speak with such overconfidence, Potter. Is that how you successfully defied Voldemort numerous times? Positive thinking?"

Harry smiled, but spoke seriously. "Don't underestimate optimism, Severus."

Snape snorted at the word and looked contemplative again. "I do not look forward to reliving this time of my life." He muttered, as though to himself. "To say it was absolutely miserable is…an understatement."

"Well, this time you have me." Harry said simply.

Snape opened his mouth and then closed it, nodding slightly. He stood up and quickly Transfigured his four-poster into a large bunk bed. "I don't want you to sleep on the floor." He said gruffly. "I'll tell the others I want to sleep higher up."

He bent down to pick up a black wand from his trunk. "Use this for now. It was my mother's. But _not _for anything violent."

Harry nodded in thanks, pocketing the wand, Transfiguring his clothes into pajamas and patting Snape lightly on the shoulder as the man looked into his trunk, transfixed. "Sleep well, Severus." He said softly.

Snape looked up, meeting Harry's eyes with a steady gaze. "You too, Harry."

H.P.

As Harry and Snape walked to breakfast the next morning Harry experienced the strangest sense of déjà vu. He thought he was seeing friends and classmates from Hogwarts, but on closer inspection, realized it was their parents. Seeing Neville's mother, her face round and cheerful like her son's, had given Harry chills.

Snape sat at the end of the Hogwarts bench, leaving a little room for Harry. He pushed food to the edge of the plate so Harry could eat, which people were too consumed with themselves to notice.

Harry saw Snape tapping his foot agitatedly as the group that had been in the common room the night before settled down around them.

"So, Severus, you were saying you could show me that spell the other day." Mulciber said, his eyes intensely looking at Snape as he poured himself juice. "Sectum something?"

Snape looked at him distractedly, but his eyes were on the doors to the Great Hall. "We'll see, Mulciber," he said.

And suddenly, both Harry and Severus let out a small gasp.

Lily had walked in, her distinctive auburn hair pulled into a braid, her bright green eyes – discernible even at a large distance – red and puffy, her shoulders slightly slouched. Even in her slightly forlorn state, Harry could not help but notice her breathtaking beauty.

Harry stole a glance at Snape, who had begun to shake slightly. His face was a wide array of emotions but most prominent was raw, unmistakable pain.

"Go to her," Harry said softly, pushing Snape. The man glared sideways at him and shook his head imperceptibly. They continued to eat breakfast, Snape remaining silent unless addressed. It was only when Regulus came and sat on the other side of him that he – temporarily – broke out of his fazed state.

When they all stood up to go to class, Harry purposefully ate the rest of his food slowly so that they would not leave until Lily did. When he saw the red hair rise across the Hall, he stood up quickly and pushed Snape along.

"Talk to her!" he hissed. "Just do it!"

Snape glared at him, his jaw clenched, but his entire countenance softened as he made eye contact with Lily across the hall and she looked away, her eyes still red.

"Lily," Snape called suddenly, walking over towards her. "Lily!"

"Leave me alone, Severus." Lily said, her voice cold. "Please , I – I meant what I said yesterday."

"Lily, I'm sorry."

"I don't forgive you." she said softly, trying to push past him.

"Follow her!" Harry hissed, pushing Snape along once more.

"I don't want to become a Death Eater anymore." Snape said boldly. Harry smiled.

"Wh- what?" Lily asked, turning around in surprise. They were the only two in the entrance hall.

"If it's going to come between us," Snape said softly, looking at her face as though he would never tire of it, "then it's not worth it."

Lily bit her lip. "I want to believe you, but I can't."

Snape paused, looking like he wouldn't speak, but Harry punched him lightly.

"Lily, you mean more to me than the Dark Arts. Than any of those imbec – any of those other Slytherins." Snape said softly, walking tentatively towards her. "I don't know why I ever even talked to them. There is nothing different about Muggle-borns – you're living proof. You deserve to be a witch as much as anyone. What You-Know-Who believes…it's a load of rubbish."

"Where is this coming from?" Lily asked, her eyes hopeful but narrowed.

"I had a lot of time to think." Snape stated_. Sure did,_ Harry thought with a wry smile.

"Severus, I want to believe you," Lily said, her eyes shining, "but I just – "

"Oi!" Harry's heart sunk as he heard his father's voice. He saw him shoot a hex at Snape but he blocked it effortlessly. James looked at Snape with a calculated expression, his eyes narrowed.

"Why are you talking to Evans, Snivelly?" James asked aggressively. "I thought she made it pretty clear yesterday that she didn't want to see you anymore. Isn't that right, Evans?"

Lily, apparently unsure how to respond, threw him a dirty look and said, "Leave us alone, Potter."

"Now, Evans, stop that." James teased. "I know you secretly love me."

"Leave, Po – " Severus began, but was suddenly hanging upside down. A laughing Sirius emerged behind him.

Snape's face flushed and Harry didn't waste a second before muttering the countercurse, along with a Cushioning charm. Snape fell to the floor gracefully, standing up eloquently and glaring at James and Sirius.

"How did you do that?" James demanded.

"Don't worry your small mind about it." Snarled Snape, his jaw clenched. "Now leave."

James and Sirius looked incredulous, opening their mouths to respond, but Harry capitalized on the actionless moment to hex them both until they were both scratching themselves uncontrollably.

"How did you do that, Snivelly?" James demanded angrily, scratching his face until blood appeared. "Fix this _now_!"

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Black?" a voice asked, and Harry turned to see McGonagall. "Why are you itching yourselves? Perhaps you should go to the Infirmary."

"No, Professor." Sirius protested. "Snape here – " But the rest of his sentence was lost as he violently scratched his legs.

"Hospital wing, boys." McGonagall said, leading both firmly by the shoulder up the stairs. Both turned to glare daggers at Snape, but he only had eyes for Lily.

"Severus," Lily began, "I – I want so badly to believe you. But how can I know if you've really changed?" she asked sadly.

"I'll show you." Snape responded quietly. "You won't have to be embarrassed to be seen with me anymore." He added as an afterthought.

"Severus," Lily said, her kind face softening, "I was never embarrassed to be seen with you."

Snape opened his mouth but then closed it, his eyes glistening a little. "I have to go to class." He stated. "But…but I'll see you later?"

"I'll see you later." Lily nodded firmly, and with a small smile, she was off.

Harry steered Snape into an abandoned classroom, casting a Muffliato as the men leaned against the wall, clearly emotionally drained.

"That was good." Harry said.

"This is madness!" Snape exclaimed, suddenly agitated. "Why are we back here? Why do I have control over my actions? I hate this! I hate – I hate seeing her – "

"Just go with it." Harry said. "Enjoy the time you have with my mum and Regulus – Merlin knows how long we'll be here. Just appreciate it."

Snape put his head in his hands. Harry approached him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder until Snape seemed to relax slightly.

"Did you like the itching hex?" Harry asked cheekily, smiling.

Snape looked up at him. "I must say I did."

"I knew you would." Harry said smugly. "The best part is, the itch won't go away for a few hours. Madame Pomfrey won't be able to do a thing."

Snape snorted and laughed a little, his black eyes alight with amusement. Harry smiled widely at the sound.

S.S.

The next few days were unquestionably the most bizarre of Severus's entire life. He felt as though he was being given another chance to live his life, even though he knew how everything would turn out no matter what he did (right?). Although sometimes he felt like he really was fifteen again, he could not help but feel rather strange taking tests when he knew some of his classmates only had a few years to live. The war and the future looming before the students sat on his chest like an unbearable weight. The most different thing from before, however, was that Severus had an invisible teenage boy at his side at all times.

Potter.

Although Potter remained as stubborn, idiotic, and imbecilic as ever, Severus could not deny that Granger and Weasley were truly lucky to have the boy as a friend. Whenever Black and Potter senior – or others – started to bully, threaten, or hex Severus, they would immediately be incapacitated by some medical emergency, thanks to Potter's surprisingly extensive knowledge of painful hexes. Severus knew them all himself, of course, but it was more entertaining for people to think he was doing complex wandless magic. Potter was the one who helped him repair his potion when Black had thrown explosive ingredients in it (even though Severus could easily do it himself), the one who helped him rewrite three essays that Potter senior had destroyed (even though, again, Severus could handle it himself, Potter insisted), and the one who encouraged him to talk to Lily and foster their relationship that was slowly improving again.

Severus accounted the warm feeling that he got in his chest every time Potter came to his defense – often seething in anger on his behalf – to the food he had been eating in the Great Hall. Probably indigestion or acid reflux. Damn house elves.

"They are just _such _arses!" Potter exclaimed. He and Severus were sitting in the empty common room in the middle of the night. "Hexing people for no reason! It's just ridiculous!"

Severus nodded slightly, not wanting to insult the boy's father and godfather too much. He reached his hands out by the fire to warm them.

"I think they're just jealous of you, and that's why they pick on you so much." Potter said knowingly.

"_Jealous_ of me?" Severus spluttered.

Potter nodded. "You do brilliantly in school, my mum loves you, and you know everything."

Severus felt his cheeks flush. "I don't know everything."

"Well, you know more than them." Potter said, taking on an oddly stern tone. "Look, I wish I could have told you this when you were actually fifteen, but you can't let them get to you. You have just as much talent and power as both of them, and you show that without being a bully." He added, "Now," as an afterthought.

There was that damn warmth again. Severus needed to stop eating so fast.

"You just don't deserve it." Potter continued, his tone slightly angry. "It makes me so bloody mad when they treat you like that."

Severus spoke before thinking. "I wish you had been here when it was actually happening." He said softly. "Would have made things significantly easier."

Harry looked up, smiling broadly. "Well, you have me now."

Severus smiled back. In the back of his mind he felt fear of the uncertain situation, aware that at any moment he could be devoured by an enormous snake, but in the moment, sitting on the floor and smiling with Harry, he felt nothing but contentment.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Just as a note, this IS a Snape mentors Harry story, but I also think of it as a bit of a Harry mentors Snape story too (we all know the man needs it). Anyway, everything will come full circle in the next chapter. Please keep sharing your thoughts with me :) **


	22. It is our choices

H.P.

Although Harry enjoyed seeing his parents, Sirius, and Remus again, he could not deny that the experience was extremely painful, one reason being that he was viewing them in a significantly more negative light on Snape's behalf. He watched James and Sirius torment Snape endlessly, without any provocation whatsoever, usually when Snape was alone. Despite his immense love for them, he could not help but feel furious at their immaturity and meanness; they were nearly worse than Draco Malfoy.

Lily, of course, was an entirely different story. With Harry's help, Snape was repairing his relationship with her, but Harry didn't know if it was the right course of action. Whenever he caught a glimpse of Snape's face, a mix of elation and regret, he didn't know if it was more painful for him to see the life he had lost.

They were now sitting in the broom closet near the Slytherin common room entrance, discussing a growing concern: Dumbledore. The man had been sending Snape increasingly suspicious, thoughtful glances, and despite Snape's superb acting skills, Harry sensed that Dumbledore knew something was amiss.

"I think you should talk to him." Harry was persisting. Snape was quiet, an old and weathered expression marring his young face. He kept touching his left forearm, where there was unblemished and smooth skin, not yet scarred by the Dark Mark. His black eyes were peering out the small window reflectively.

"So, what do you think?" Harry pushed. He was sick of Snape's mute periods, and was exhausted from lack of sleep, as the only time they could properly speak was in the middle of the night.

"I do not want to speak to him." Snape said finally, bringing his intense gaze back to Harry.

"But he can help us." Harry argued. "He might know how to send us back."

Snape looked at the floor, a brief, odd expression flitting momentarily across his features. With a small start, Harry realized it was guilt.

"Do you not want to talk to him," asked Harry slowly, trying to keep his tone gentle and non-accusatory, "because you don't _want _to go back?"

Snape brought his head up sharply. "What?"

"It's okay," Harry said quickly. "You're with my mum and Regulus, I understand you want to spend time with them – "

"That's not it at all, Potter!" Snape hissed angrily, now focusing all his attention on Harry. His jaw was clenched. "Stop assuming you know everything about me!"

"I do know you." Harry said stubbornly. "But why did you just look…guilty…when I said that?"

Snape rolled his eyes and looked angrier. "Because _I_ put us in this situation, Potter!" he said emphatically. "I am sure that this predicament is extremely painful for you! Seeing your mother – what your father and godfather were like when they were younger – "

"Oh," Harry interjected softly, feeling slightly warmed at Snape's poorly disguised concern for him. "Don't feel guilty. It's no worse for me than for you."

Snape only shrugged irritably, apparently unable to disagree.

"I'm ready to go back when you are. I just think talking to Dumbledore would help."

"I am perfectly capable of discerning our situation on my own." Snape said stiffly, gesturing at the books he had collected from the library on Dark artifacts. Thus far they had been entirely unhelpful and useless, a fact of which Snape was perfectly aware.

Harry paused for a moment. "What's the real reason you don't want to speak to him?"

"Shut up, Potter," Snape said. "Why must you always ask these deep questions? I don't want to speak with him because it is entirely unnecessary to do so!"

Harry shook his head. "You're deflecting." He said sternly.

Snape cast him an annoyed glance. "How do I feel about Dumbledore, Potter?" He suddenly exploded angrily, his black eyes widening. "Why don't you _think_ I want to talk to him? He _used _me! For sixteen years I was _enslaved_ to him!"

Harry shook his head. "He cared about you. And I know you cared about him."

Snape sneered as he did whenever they broached emotional topics. "He couldn't have cared less about me, Potter. What kind of man asks someone to kill him? Would you ask Weasley or Granger to kill you?"

Harry paused, momentarily disarmed. "It's a lot to ask." He admitted evasively.

"And even posthumous, I was still following his orders." Snape continued, his tone unmistakably bitter and resentful. "I should have destroyed that blasted portrait. Everyone thought I was a cold blooded murderer. He didn't care, as long as he died painlessly."

"Dumbledore was a good man," Harry said quietly, "but he was flawed, just like everyone else, including me and you."

Snape shook his head. "How can you say that? He preys on weak people, manipulates them into following his order. He was ready to send you off to your death!"

"I've forgiven him." Harry said softly, and then peered intensely into Snape's coal-black eyes. Despite his vituperative tone, Harry knew that in his heart of hearts, Snape greatly admired and respected Dumbledore. The man had not only been one of the few to give him a second chance, but had also bothered to look for the oft-missed good in Snape. "I suggest you do the same."

Snape didn't respond, but instead leaned heavily against the wall of the closet, unconsciously leaning his head on bucket of cleaning supplies. As he looked at the young and vulnerable man, Harry absentmindedly reached out his hand and lightly squeezed Snape's.

"He was proud of you, you know." Harry stated.

Snape shrugged lightly, his face a complex myriad of emotions. He leaned back against the wall, the moonlight from the window making his face appear ethereal and ghostly white.

After several quiet moments during which Harry almost dozed off, Snape sat up straight and said, with a rather resigned air, "We will speak with him tomorrow."

S.S.

Severus was planning on going to Dumbledore's office with Potter that day, so after breakfast he made a beeline for the staircase. He had tried to not act too oddly in front of Regulus, knowing that this could be the last time he would ever see him. The boy had given him a mildly concerned glance, asking if some potions had gotten to his head, but had then continued eating ferociously in a manner that reminded Snape unpleasantly of Ron Weasley. However, he couldn't help but lightly squeeze Regulus's shoulder on the way out, much to the boy's bemusement.

Severus avoided speaking with Lily all morning, worried that he wouldn't be able to leave her if he knew he was going back to the real world. He shouldn't have ever apologized again; leaving now would be so much harder when he saw what their friendship could have been.

"Find her and say something," Potter hissed, pushing against his shoulder blades to direct him towards the Gryffindor common table. Severus tried to resist, but now that he had lost his physical advantage over Potter being in his fifteen-year-old body, it was a lot tougher.

Just as Severus was pushing against Potter and making for the door, he heard a high, bright voice. "Sev!"

Severus internally groaned as he saw Potter smiling out of the corner of his eye.

"Sev," Lily repeated, coming up to stand next to Severus. Even in the morning, with her hair a little messy and her eyes tired, she was still breathtakingly gorgeous. Severus had thought about her a lot since her death, but memory did not serve her beauty justice.

"Do you want to out by the lake for a bit?" she asked. "I'm all done with my O.W.L.s, except for Muggle Studies tomorrow, but it's so nice outside. I'd love some fresh air."

Severus gulped but after a moment's hesitation, nodded in acquiescence. After all, how could he turn down spending a pleasant morning by the lake with Lily Potter? Dumbledore could wait.

Lily chatted animatedly about her O.W.L.s and peppered Severus with questions about Potions as they pattered down to the lake's edge, Potter trailing behind. Lily had done a complete turnaround in her attitude towards Severus since a few days before when he had openly defended her in front of some of his Slytherin friends, denouncing Voldemort as a bigoted racist, and condemning any of his supporters to lives of misery and servitude. It had taken all his resolve not to faint when she had looked at him with those damn green eyes, her expression full of pride and gratitude. Later that night Regulus had told him he was proud of him, and Potter had practically kissed him in delight.

They reached their favorite tree and sat down, oddly near where Potter senior and Black had tormented him a few days ago. Lily looked at him with slight discomfort, clearly remembering the scene too.

Potter plopped down close to his mother, totally unbeknownst to Lily. Severus took in the odd scene, their identical eyes and kind expressions, with a kind of melancholy affection. With a small clench of his heart, he realized that this could have been his family.

Merlin, he needed more sleep. He was losing his mind. _Family?_

"Sev?" Lily said softly, breaking Severus out of his delusional thoughts.

"Yes?" Severus said with trepidation, thinking she was going to chastise him for calling her a Mudblood again. Merlin, if only she knew how much he had already tormented himself.

But to his surprise, she looked down at her hands with a guilty expression, her shiny auburn hair hiding her face. "I'm sorry I called you Snivellus." She whispered.

Severus snapped his head up and looked at her with surprise. "What?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

She mistook his expression for anger and crinkled her eyes in apology. "I'm sorry. When you called me, er, that word, it just came out! But I know how much that word hurts your feelings. It was so horrible of me to say it." She peeked up through a curtain of her hair. "Please forgive me."

Severus was rather lost for words. Never in his life would he have believed that Lily Potter would be _apologizing_ to _him_. He looked at her, stunned.

Potter thumped him in the back, hard. "Say it's okay!" he whispered.

"It's….it's fine, Lily." Severus said finally, his voice a little hoarse.

Lily nodded but frowned a little. "And the stuff...the stuff I said about cleaning your pants…" she turned a little pink. "It was way below the belt. I was humiliated and angry, but I should never have said that." She bit her lip.

Severus shook his head a little belatedly. "It's okay, Lily." He looked down at his hands, trying to suppress his voice, but a question he had wondered for twenty-three years escaped his lips before he could stop it. "But why did you smile?"

"What?" She asked. Potter furrowed his brow a bit.

"When Black turned me upside down." Severus elaborated. "You…your lips twitched. Like you were going to smile."

Lily looked anguished. "You saw that?" Severus nodded shortly. "Oh, is that why you called me that name? You thought I was laughing at you?"

"Yes." Severus said shortly, trying to suppress his surprise and curiosity.

"Sev!" Lily exclaimed. "I would never laugh at that. You should know that."

Severus shrugged as though he didn't care. "I thought you thought Potter was being funny."

"Oh, Sev," Lily breathed. "Potter is horrible. What he does to you…it's disgusting! It's the opposite of funny." She bit her lip. "The reason I smiled was because…because you looked so fierce staring at Potter. It reminded me of when we were younger."

"What?" asked Severus, bewildered. Even Potter looked confused, though that was certainly not new.

"You were never really…athletic," Lily admitted, smiling a little, "and you were always a little small. But the other boys in town would never approach you because you had that death glare. You were always so intimidating. Seeing you…it reminded me of then. Happier times."

Severus felt a little weak in the knees, although he was sitting down. "And _that's_ why you smiled?"

"Yes." Lily said. "I would never laugh at you. What kind of best friend would I be?" She squeezed Severus's hand with her own warm one. Alarmed at the sudden moisture in his eyes, he looked away for a second, pretending to be looking at the giant squid.

They continued the morning pleasantly, mocking one of their new potions textbooks and marking it with their own corrections. Severus felt slightly unsettled watching Lily examine his old Potions book, the one that would later fall into her son's hands. She made a few corrections to it herself in her loopy handwriting, an addition missing from the one that Potter would later find.

Finally lunch came and Lily stood up, pulling Severus to his feet. After a moment, she suddenly hugged him. It was all Severus could do not to sob as she embraced him tightly.

"I'm so glad we're friends again, Sev," she whispered. "I'm so proud of you." She pulled back slightly and looked into his black eyes. Severus felt his heart skip a few beats. "We'll always be friends, right?"

Severus gulped and saw Potter tearing up. "Always." He forced out.

Lily smiled brilliantly and chattered happily as they walked to the Great Hall. As they entered, she cheerily called, "See you later, Sev!" and skipped away, her hair dancing behind her.

"Bye, Lily." Severus responded softly.

H.P.

Harry and Snape had to take a small detour on the way to Dumbledore's office. Snape was shaking rather badly, and Harry thought that he may be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Harry quickly led him into an empty classroom, where Snape promptly sat down on a desk and after several moments of repressed shakes and biting his lip, let out a hoarse sob.

Harry scooted over and patted Snape's back, murmuring meaningless comforting words until Snape seemed to gain some control over his emotions. He stood up straight, smoothed his robes, and took a deep breath.

"Please excuse my momentary lapse of control." He said formally, as though embarrassed.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled him out the door. "You're too much, Snape."

The two wordlessly walked towards the entrance to Dumbledore's office, which Harry realized would later become Snape's office. Shaking off that weird thought, he practically walked into Dumbledore, who appeared to be leaving his office.

"Severus!" Dumbledore said, eyeing Snape carefully. His blue eyes were twinkling and piercing, which Harry now recognized as a sign that he was performing Legilimency. Snape's face remained emotionless as ever, and Dumbledore's own expression betrayed a hint of surprise as he studied the younger man. Harry wondered if Snape was Occluding.

"I was wondering if I could have a word." Snape said stiffly. "Professor."

"But of course," said Dumbledore. "I was just going to lunch. I was hoping to speak with you there. Please, follow me. Crumpets." He said to the gargoyle, who moved aside to allow Snape and Dumbledore – and Harry – entrance.

They walked into the office, which looked remarkably similar to how Harry remembered Dumbledore's office looking, though perhaps lacking a few books and Dark object finders. He stopped looking around and focused on the two men before him.

"Please take a seat." Dumbledore said, and Snape stiffly sat down in the chair that Harry knew he would later occupy on countless occasions. Harry sat in the other one, invisible to Dumbledore.

"What is it you wish to discuss with me?" Dumbledore asked, his tone conversational as he sat in his own seat.

"Why were you looking for me?" Snape asked carefully.

Dumbledore seemed slightly taken aback by the question and paused for a moment, apparently judging whether or not to answer honestly. "Your behavior of late has intrigued me, Severus." He admitted. "I have noticed that you, rather suddenly, have cut ties with your Slytherin friends. You have become much closer to Miss Evans, which is rather unusual considering you have been, to my knowledge, on the outs with her until recently. And," he paused, "you just performed a level of Occlumency that would be rare even for a wizard of considerable age. I realize you are remarkably talented, but that is incredibly advanced."

Snape did not respond, despite Dumbledore's expectant expression. He appeared to be fighting an internal battle.

"Just tell him the whole thing." Harry said. "He's the only hope we have."

Snape cast him an annoyed sideways glance and gave a long-suffering sigh.

"You will likely not believe what I am about to tell you." He warned.

"I find that unlikely, Severus." Dumbledore said. "Nothing is impossible."

Snape rolled his eyes and began. "I am Severus Snape, but I am not fifteen. My real self is thirty-eight, and I am currently with a boy named Harry Potter, the child of…"

He continued on for what seemed like hours, retelling a combination of his and Harry's life stories. He outlined his own commitment to Voldemort, the prophecy, Pettigrew's betrayal, the Horcruxes, and everything in between. Dumbledore did not betray any major emotion, except asking a few questions and uttering a gasp of surprise when Snape described his asking to kill him. He looked slightly ashamed as Snape described the revelation that Harry had to die, and his subsequent feelings of betrayal.

Snape continued to describe life after the final battle, explaining how he and Harry had been living together and the incident with Rudolphus. He did not explicitly say that the two were getting along better, but Dumbledore's knowing smile said he understood.

"So Harry is right there in that chair?" asked Dumbledore finally. "Listening to this entire conversation?"

"Yes." Snape said. He paused. "So you…believe me?"

"My dear boy, of course!" Dumbledore said. "You were blessed with many talents, Severus, but not an imagination. That story is far too complex – and dare I say, plausible – for me to think you had fabricated it. Also, I can see it in your mind."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You were always the only Legilimens who could read my mind." He muttered, annoyed.

Dumbledore smiled lightly and then steepled his hands together. "So, my boy – boys. I surmise you are wondering how to get out of this situation."

Snape paused for second but then nodded. "Yes."

Dumbledored leaned back, looking out the window at the setting sun. "Are you familiar with the Multiverse Theory?"

Snape seemed taken aback. "I have heard of it." He said carefully, his eyes narrowed. Harry was totally bewildered.

"The Multiverse Theory says that there are an infinite number of universes that comprise everything that exists: space, time, matter, and energy." Dumbledore explained in a lecturing tone. He paused. "It appears that the Light diluter, when mixing with the contents of the Tenebrae, produced an unintended consequence of placing you and – Harry, was it? - in an alternate universe."

Snape raised one eyebrow. "Elaborate."

"To put it simply," Dumbledore said, "right now we are in a world that it very much real, as real as the one you just left."

Snape looked like there was dawning comprehension on his face. Harry still felt lost. "So, what are our options, then?" Snape asked carefully.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "I know the spell, and Harry can easily go back to your world; I am sure existence as an invisible person is not very desirable, although I know he will be returning to that Rudolphus fellow, which I realize is dangerous." He paused. "As for you, you have two choices."  
Snape narrowed his eyes and Harry felt his heart thump. Two choices?

"You can either go with the boy." Dumbledore said. "Or – remain here. As I said, this universe is very "real", for lack of a better term. You can live out your life here, as you dictate it, and die as normally as you would in the other world."

Harry blanched, but not as much as Snape. The man became ghostly pale.

"I will leave you with the boy to discuss it." Dumbledore said carefully. "I will go down to lunch. Take your time; there is no pressing need to decide." And with a small squeeze on Snape's shoulder, he sauntered out of the room.

Snape was looking out the window with as anguished an expression as Harry had ever seen. Harry's own inside were torn; he had almost always known that this thing with Snape was too good to be true. To finally have an adult male figure, a mixture of a father and friend, who was actually in his life to stay was far too good to be true. But it was only fair that Snape finally got to live his life like he always should have – didn't Harry want him to be happy, after all?

"It's okay, Severus." Harry said softly. "You…you deserve to stay here. Be with mum, be with Regulus, save the wizarding world." He gulped. "I'll miss you, but – "

Suddenly, Snape reached out and squeezed Harry's hand. "I don't know what I'm going to do." He admitted hoarsely, looking downright miserable. He closed his eyes and ran weary hands over his face.

Harry's heart beat uncomfortably as he felt Snape's quick pulse in his hand. What was that old quote that Luna had told him once? "If you really love something, set it free"?

He sighed, not even noticing that he had just admitted to himself that he loved Snape. Of course he wanted the man to be happy; he deserved it more than anyone. But that wouldn't make letting him go any easier.

**Hope you liked the chapter! What do you think Snape will do? By the way, hope my portrayal of the Snape/Dumbledore relationship was somewhat accurate…I think even if Snape resented him a little, he always admired and liked him. I promise I will update the next chapter sooner than I did this one!**


	23. A Journal Entry

S.S.

Severus had never felt so anguished in his life. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on Dumbledore's desk, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood.

The ironic part was that if he had been faced with this choice a few years ago – even a few months ago, really – he would have burst out laughing at the thought of having any difficulty in making it. A chance to relive his life, to avoid joining Voldemort and stay friends with Regulus and Lily, and maybe even _be_ with Lily, was all he had ever wanted for the past two decades. How could that even be _compared_ to a life with Harry Potter, a boy who he had wholeheartedly detested for several years? It was ludicrous. There should be no question in his mind: stay in this world and don't even give Potter a second glance.

And yet, as Severus watched the sun's dying rays illuminate the boy's face, he could not ignore the undeniable affection and warmth he felt. How could he just leave Potter to go face Rudolphus alone, while he remained here and lived out his dreams? After all Potter had done for him, especially when they had been in this situation? That seemed incredibly wrong. But the boy was a half-decent wizard, wasn't he? He had killed the greatest Dark wizard of all time, shouldn't he be able to defeat a significantly more mediocre and inexperienced wizard without supreme difficulty?

And how – _how _could Severus give up a chance with _Lily_? Lily! She would never die…he would never have her blood on his hands…maybe one day she could become Lily Snape, and never, ever Lily Potter…and he could finally have that normal life, being a husband and father, that he had so enviously coveted…

Wouldn't all that – Regulus, Lily, the potential children he could have – wouldn't they easily fill any void that Severus would feel from losing Potter?

Could he seriously be equating Potter to Lily in his mind?!

"I'm going to go for a walk." Potter stated, peering carefully at Severus.

"Why?" asked Severus, distracted.

"I need to clear my head." Potter responded simply.

"Well, come back soon." Severus muttered, privately happy that he would be alone to make this decision. Having Potter right in front of him, looking up with those sad green eyes, would indubitably sway his choice.

Potter stood up and gave Severus a long, searching glance before lightly squeezing his shoulder. "You know what you want to do," Potter said. "And please don't worry about me, I will be fine." And with that, he swept out of Dumbledore's office, leaving Severus to brace his head against Dumbledore's desk, chastising himself for ever growing to care for Harry Potter.

H.P.

Harry scurried to the Great Hall, quickly devising ways he could communicate with Dumbledore without speaking. He reached the Head Table, leaning over to catch his breath from a stitch in his side, and quickly ducked under the Ravenclaw table. He snatched a spare piece of blank parchment and a quill out of an unassuming first year's bag and scribbled, _Snape made his choice and he would like to stay_. He charmed it to fly over to Dumbledore, who quickly grabbed and read it, slightly nodding. The man stood up, muttering something about going to the loo to nearby faculty members, and slightly motioned with his head to the door. Harry took it as a cue and followed him.

Dumbledore swept down the great halls of Hogwarts, looking magnificently grand and powerful, and Harry idly wondered if he could give him any tips on spells to use on Rudolphus. Harry was slightly concerned about going back and facing the man, but nothing would override his desire to give Snape happiness.

Dumbledore quickly ducked into an empty classroom and stared at a spot only a few feet to Harry's left as he followed him inside. "Harry, if you're in here, please write "Yes" on the blackboard." A messy "Yes" appeared on the board and Dumbledore nodded, a small smile on his face.

"So, my dear boy, you tell me that Severus desires to remain here and you desire to go back to your world?" A "Yes" appeared on the board again. "Has he told you this himself? Perhaps he ought to tell me in person – "

Harry quickly scribbled, "That's not necessary, he is already back with his friends" on the blackboard and Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Not necessary" Harry wrote again.

"Well, if you insist," Dumbledore said, shrugging slightly. "Okay, Harry, my boy, I need you to stand right here in front of this desk so I know where you are…this spell will take a few short minutes…"

S.S.

Severus stood up a few moments after Potter left, feeling agitated. He needed to make this decision, and he needed to make it fast, before he began to feel any regret. He stalked out of Dumbledore's office and quickly descended several staircases to the Slytherin common room, walking rapidly into his empty dormitory.

He sat down on the bottom bunk, where Potter had been sleeping, and felt something hard under him. Reaching down, he pulled out an emerald green notebook. Potter must have filched it from his bag and written in it when he had stayed in the dormitory during Severus's classes.

Severus opened it, curious and intrigued. What could Potter have written in it? He saw a date and paragraph written in messy scrawl on each page; Potter had written some sort of entry for each day that they had been there. Severus flipped through them idly but stopped at the longest one and started reading.

_Today was reasonably eventful. Snape and Mum were talking outside the Great Hall when the junior Death Eaters – basically everyone in Snape's dormitory – came over and started being arses. They called Mum a Mudblood and said that once Voldemort took over, which would be soon, people "like her" would be stomped out like they insects they are. I was shaking with rage, but it was nothing compared to Snape. I thought he was actually going to kill Mulciber. Snape said that Voldemort was a "bigoted racist" and that anyone who joined him was condemning themselves to a life of misery and servitude, and was enslaving themselves to a madman with absolutely no regard for human life. They hexed him, but he and Mum easily deflected their curses, plus I helped out a bit too. Mum was so happy, she was smiling ear to ear, but I don't think it compared to how proud I felt. He finally acted like the person I know he is on the inside – brilliant, brave, and confident. I wish he had known at the time that he was one hundred times the man any of those guys are; he didn't need them to give him any sense of worth. If today did anything, it reaffirmed all my opinions about Snape; without a doubt, he has a good heart and good intentions. I wish more people had seen all of his potential, in numerous times in his life, but I feel incredibly lucky that I have had the privilege of seeing it myself. _

_ To top the day off, I got a bruise on my head from stumbling over the missing stair on the staircase – clearly, I haven't been at Hogwarts in a while – and Snape legitimately freaked out about it. He started worrying about not having access to medicine, and how he would have to handle any serious medical emergency because he was the only one who could see me, and all that. It was quite entertaining to see a fifteen-year-old, sullen, black-clothed Snape fretting like a mother hen, but I admit, it was kind of nice. It sounds odd to say, but he really would have been a good father. _

Next to that, the writing had been scribbled out with copious ink, but Severus could just barely make out what had been written in Potter's untidy scrawl. _I just want to go back to the cottage on the lake with Snape. It was like being a part of a real family, and I miss it. _

Severus put down the journal suddenly, tucking it back under the blankets. He stood up, resolving to find Potter immediately.

He had made his decision.

H.P.

Harry was sitting patiently at a desk as Dumbledore muttered innumerable spells under his breath. Harry didn't know what language they were from, but it certainly wasn't English or Latin. He sighed and tried to stop thinking about Snape.

He hoped Dumbledore would speed this process along. He knew that Snape would leave the office eventually and try to look for him. Harry hoped he had made peace with his decision to stay and wasn't under any delusions that he ought to go with Harry – no, that would be the totally _wrong_ idea. He deserved happiness more than anyone – Harry wasn't going to stand by and let Snape prevent himself from having it.

"Okay, Harry, you will be transported back into your world in a few moments," Dumbledore said quietly, thoughtfully peering into what he saw as thin air. "You are prepared?" Harry nodded quickly, then realizing the old man couldn't see him, etched a "Yes" on the blackboard.

Harry felt the air around him become extremely warm and suddenly, white light was surrounding his body. He could still see Dumbledore and the classroom quite clearly, but he could feel himself being pulled away from this world.

He was suddenly filled with regret that he had not said a more proper goodbye to Snape.

Suddenly, to Harry's dismay, Snape erupted into the room, his face etched with shock and rage as he took in Harry, surrounded by bright white light.

"_What the bloody hell!"_ he hissed angrily, his face furious. "STOP, Dumbledore!"

"Severus, Harry told me you were going to remain here." Dumbledore responded, his wand still aloft.

"You imbecile!" Snape shouted. "You have absolutely no right to make this decision for me!"

"Yes I do!" Harry retaliated. "You have to stay here, Snape, do you realize what you're doing? It's my MUM! Isn't this all you have ever wanted?"

"Shut up, Potter!" Snape screamed angrily, trying to get Dumbledore's attention.

"NO!" Harry shouted. "You are making a huge mistake! You don't want to come back with me, I know it, you just think it's the right thing to do – do what you want – "

"I will do what I want, Potter," Snape said furiously. "I do not need your permission!" He paused for a moment. "I want to stay with you!" His voice lost some of its volume and anger, but was still aggressive. Harry tried not to smile and reminded himself that this was for Snape's own good.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going." Harry said resolutely. "Just – please stay! You don't know what you're giving up!" He said desperately.

"I am perfectly aware of what I am sacrificing, and yet, I am still here." Snape said quietly and quickly, blanching afterwards as though he had just realized the meaning of his words.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly as though his heart were warmed, "if you wish to accompany Harry back, please be my guest. However, I have gone pretty deep into the spell with Harry already and I fear that he may return before you – "

Suddenly, Harry felt as though his body was being pulled violently into the air. "It's taking me!" He shouted, trying to hold on to the desks, to no avail. He tried to keep the fear from his voice, but failed miserably. "Was it supposed to happen like this?"

Dumbledore peered upward. "Is he gone yet?" He asked Snape conversationally.

"YES!" Snape shouted angrily. "How do I stop him?" He began yelling spells at Harry, but they were no use; Harry felt himself being pulled higher and higher above, until he reached the ceiling and felt himself being pulled through.

The last thing he heard was Snape's desperate cry of his name.

**A/N: Should I keep going? You tell me! **


	24. Comatose

H.P.

Harry landed with a thud on a hard, concrete floor, dust pillowing in a cloud around him. Utterly exhausted, he fell against an old, dilapidated chair that promptly broke with a loud crack. On the floor, his heart thudding, he looked into the eyes of Rudolphus's looming figure. He was in the same exact position in the basement as he had been when Harry and Snape had left; no time had passed. Yet for all that Harry had experienced, it could have been years.

"Where is Snape?" Rudolphus asked roughly, seemingly too distracted to put Harry into chains. Harry was still unarmed, but slowly pushed himself up inch by inch, his mind working furiously to devise a plan to get his wand. Just as he was raising his hand to snatch the wand, while Rudolphus examined the Tenebrae, an ear-splitting scream rendered both men frozen.

"CHAIN HIM!" Bellatrix's portrait screamed. Rudolphus startled, and with a swish of his wand, Harry was back in the chains and bound to the wall.

Suddenly, everything happened very fast.

Just a millisecond after Harry saw Snape appear next to the Tenebrae, back to his normal adult form and casting a quick glance over to confirm that Harry was still alive, Rudolphus was thrown back roughly. Snape was using wand-less spells.

Snape quickly Summoned his own and Harry's wands back and after a cursory swish to the side, which freed Harry from his chains and left him sprawled on the floor behind an old bureau, clutching his wand, the two men stared viciously dueling.

"Don't – attempt – to – help – " Snape hissed in Harry's direction as he crawled near the duel on his knees, trying to see if he could aid Snape.

Harry ignored this, standing up and trying to hurl additional curses at Rudolphus, but he was far too amateur to compete with such a powerful wizard. Nevertheless, he stood beside Snape and dueled to the best of his ability. The three men screamed and shouted, their faces alight with anger, bright spells piercing the air between them. Bellatrix screamed bloody murder from her portrait, for once ignored by everyone.

The duel continued for several minutes as jets of light, mostly green, shot between the figures, the ground cracking beneath them; both men were aiming to kill. Rudolphus suddenly changed directions and began aiming at Harry, which seemed to enrage Snape beyond capacity.

"Oh, getting feisty, are we, Severus?" Rudolphus asked in a mockingly sweet voice, his teeth bared. "You don't want me to kill little Harry, do you?"

Snape didn't respond, but began dueling with a ferocity that made Harry scoot back a few feet in fear. The man suddenly looked savage, and Harry began to understand why he had been Voldemort's most prized Death Eater.

Harry saw a green jet of light from Snape's wand hit Rudolphus square in the chest, knocking him down dead. But Rudolphus's last spell, a jet of dark purple, which had been aimed at Harry, hit Snape in the arm as he launched himself in front of Harry to protect him. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Suddenly, Harry couldn't hear Bellatrix screaming or the wooden furniture cracking beneath Rudolphus's weight. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears as he knelt beside Snape, too afraid to feel for a pulse.

His hand was shaking too badly to stay still. He picked up Snape's wand from the ground and pocketed it with his own. His head spinning, a sob ready to escape from his lips, Harry lifted Snape's torso with his hands and Apparated to the first place he could think of.

H.P.

Harry arrived at the stoop of the Burrow, clutching Snape in his arms. He raised his eyes, squinting in the early evening sun, to see George Weasley sitting on the stoop.

"Harry?" he asked hurriedly, rushing over to Harry. "What's wrong with Snape?"

"Lestrange – check his pulse – " Harry said with great effort, suddenly fading in and out of consciousness. He heard other voices, some high and some deep – was that Ron and Hermione? – and two pairs of strong arms lifted him up and half-carried, half-dragged him into the house. Before he knew it, he was lying in a soft, warm bed, and someone was stroking his forehead, and it seemed like there was nothing wrong with the world, everything was fine, except…was Snape alive…was Snape alive?…every time he asked that people told him to relax…

H.P.

Harry woke a few hours later, surprised at how exhausted he felt. Dumbledore had told him that returning to his world would require a significant amount of physical energy, but he had not expected the bone-aching feeling he had all over his body. Undeterred, he swung his legs over the bed and stood up, ignoring his overpowering feelings of vertigo. Grasping the bed for support, he chanced a glance out the window; it was nighttime.

"Harry?" three voices asked. Harry rubbed his eyes to see that Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were sitting in three chairs, shadowed by the darkness. Ron lit a few candles.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked anxiously as Harry advanced towards the door.

"Where's Snape?" Harry asked. "Is he alive? Is he – "

"He's alive." Ron said quickly.

Harry's knees buckled as he breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Hermione quickly led him back over to sit on the bed.

"But…Harry." Hermione said cautiously.

Harry peered into their slightly anxious, somber expressions with trepidation. Why were they so concerned? Snape was alive!

"What is it?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer. None responded. "What is it?" he repeated, his voice annoyed and anxious. "If he's alive, what's the problem?"

"He's alive, mate, but he's not exactly…able to converse." Ron said uneasily.

"_What's wrong with him_?" Harry asked angrily.

"Snape is in a coma." Ginny said bluntly.

"A coma?" Harry asked, trying to absorb the information.

"A coma." Hermione confirmed. "He's alive, but unconscious, for an indefinite amount of time. Whatever spell Lestrange – that's who it was, right? – used on him, it put him in a coma. He could come out of it tomorrow; it could be…longer. Forever." She bit her lip. "But I'm going to do loads of reading on it. Do you remember, by any chance, what spell was used on him?"

"He wasn't aiming it at Snape." Harry said. He felt hollow.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"The spell was aimed at me." Harry said quietly. "Snape…stepped in front."

All three of their mouths dropped into little o's. Ginny leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, as Hermione squeezed his hand and Ron gave him a genuinely apologetic look.

"He'll be okay, Harry." Ginny said, her voice fierce.

"Yes." Hermione said, her tone confident despite its slight waver. "Let's go have some tea, shall we?" And suddenly three pairs of hands were pulling Harry up and leading him downstairs to the kitchen, holding his arm and patting him on the shoulder.

The entire Weasley family was seated at the kitchen table, including Bill and Fleur. They all looked up, their expressions indecipherable, as Harry approached.

Mrs. Weasley shot up, going over to embrace Harry in a bone-crushing hug, muttering something about how was it possible that even with Voldemort dead, Harry still got himself into life-threatening situations. Mr. Weasley gave him a gentler, briefer hug, and all of Ron's brothers clapped him on the back. Fleur gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"We told him." Ginny said as she sat beside Charlie, indicating the chair on her other side for Harry. He sat, examining everyone's faces and trying to read their expressions. They were all smiling at him, but it seemed forced.

"Snape was protecting Harry when he got hit. He stepped in front of Harry to take the spell." Hermione said quietly. Everyone's eyes widened and their expressions became even more sympathetic.

"Eet weel be fine, 'Arry," Fleur said suddenly, leaning over to look at Harry intensely with her beautiful blue eyes. "Zat man ees strong and brave, and I am sure that 'e weel be waking up very soon." She nodded pointedly, as though to indicate that she was right. "'Ere, have some tea." She pushed a mug towards Harry and he drank from it, grateful for the warmth. Mrs. Weasley was watching Fleur with an odd expression.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said, his tone kind, "I know that it's probably the last thing you want to do right now, but we really do need to hear about what happened. It's completely okay if you don't want to go into details now, we just need a general summary to report to the Ministry."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Can I go see him first?"

Nearly everyone's expressions softened slightly, even Percy's. "Of course." Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "He's in George's room."

Harry nodded and got up, trudging up the staircase and trying to collect his thoughts. So Snape was in a coma. Harry had heard a little about comas growing up in the Muggle world, but it had never seemed like a horrible or taboo topic…was it really that bad? It was likely Snape would wake up, right?

Harry pushed open the door and took a deep breath as he entered the dark room, only lit by moonlight. Snape was lying on the bed, his eyes closed, clothed in soft cotton pajamas that someone must have Transfigured. Harry pushed a stray hair off of his forehead and allowed the tears to fall.

He was suddenly overcome with gut-wrenching guilt. What if Snape didn't wake up, and he could have stayed in the other world with Lily and Regulus? He had given all of that up for nothing. And it was _all_ Harry's fault.

The tears fell thicker as Harry thought of how Snape had so impulsively launched himself in front of Harry to protect him from Rudolphus's spell; there hadn't been a shadow of doubt or hesitation on his face as he jumped forward. For such a methodical, careful man so invested in self-preservation, how could he have been so careless? Surely, he would not have done something so foolish if he had given it more thought.

Harry looked at the pale face, the hooked nose and thick black hair, and was overcome with fear of living without Snape. How would he cope? And how would he live with himself, knowing it had been his fault on two accounts?

After a moment's hesitation, Harry laid down next to Snape, his arm touching the older man's arm. "I'm sorry, Snape." He said thickly, his eyes closed. "I am so, so sorry."

And then he just cried.

H.P.

After he had finally made his way back downstairs, where most of the Weasley family had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, and told an abridged version of what had happened, mostly everyone had gone upstairs after patting Harry on the back or squeezing his shoulder. Ginny had tried to stay awake, but after her eyes kept closing, Harry insisted that she go to bed. She had finally complied, giving him a long hug and promising that she would be more alert in the morning.

Harry now sat with Ron and Hermione on the Burrow living room floor, oddly reminiscent of their previous year spent camping, while Mr. Weasley wrote a letter to the Ministry.

"You really have the worst luck, mate." Ron said, looking at Harry seriously.

Harry chuckled darkly while Hermione smiled weakly. "You could say that again."

Hermione shook her head slightly. "I think he's going to wake up, Harry." She said quietly. "I just…I do."

"Well, if that doesn't instill confidence, I don't know what will." Ron said, trying to lighten the mood. Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"I have to tell you guys something." He said seriously. "There's a little part…missing from the story I told."

"Did you purposely leave information out, Harry?" Hermione asked, a little shocked and accusatory. "Ron's dad is Owling the Ministry as we speak! They need the full story!"

"No." Harry said quickly. "No. This has nothing to do with Rudolphus, really." He cleared his throat. When he had told the Weasleys about the Tenebrae, he had vaguely said that it acted like a Dark Pensieve, revealing his and Snape's worst memories. Nobody had questioned his story because they had all been entirely unfamiliar with such an object.

"It's the Tenebrae." He clarified. "It had some…unintended consequences." Harry said evasively.

"Harry, just tell us!" Ron said impatiently.

"You won't believe me." Harry argued.

"Harry." Hermione said gently. "If there are two people in the world who always believe you, they are sitting right here."

Harry nodded, ignoring the sudden wetness in his eyes, and delved into the story. He explained all about the Light diluter (at which Hermione's eyes lit up with interest) and Regulus and Lily and the young Death Eaters. Their faces were etched with shock, amazement, and sadness, but when he explained the part about Dumbledore giving Snape a choice, Ron's face became confused.

"But he's…here." Ron interrupted. "Was the old man pulling his leg?"

Hermione uttered a little "Oh".

Ron looked back and forth from each of their faces, his expression incredulous. "He…he voluntarily came back with you?"

Harry nodded, his eyes averted.

"But all that stuff with your mum!" Ron protested weakly. "All that stuff about "always"…and dedicating his life to her – how could he?"

Hermione gave Harry a small smile and squeezed his hand. "He really loves you, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "It was a huge mistake. I tried to get him to stay, I tried to escape without him…even Dumbledore, you could tell, wanted him to stay after hearing his story, he immediately took my word that Snape was staying without Snape saying it himself – "

"But it wasn't your choice to make, Harry." Hermione interjected softly. "Neither was it Dumbledore's. He has a habit of trying to control people, to orchestrate lives in the way that he thinks is best. Snape is an adult – an incredibly intelligent adult, I may add – and he made the decision to stay with you. Whatever is going on right now, is _not_ your fault."

Harry nodded lightly, subconsciously glancing towards the stairs where Snape was just a few feet away.

"He'll be fine, Harry." Ron said, looking uncharacteristically serious. "Snape is tough; he didn't come all this way to be stuck in a coma. And when he wakes up, now that Lestrange is gone…you'll finally be free."

"Free." Harry echoed. "With all the people that have died because of me? I don't think I'll ever be free."

Neither Ron nor Hermione disagreed, but instead moved to sit beside Harry. Hermione took his hand in hers and leaned her head against his shoulder, while Ron put a hand on his other shoulder and left it there. The three of them stayed like that all night as the fire burned to embers, leaning against each other but not uttering a word.

H.P.

"I'm sorry, but no." Harry said firmly.  
It was a few days later and Harry was arguing with a Healer from St. Mungo's. The Healer was trying to convince Harry to let Snape stay at the hospital, in a ward with several other comatose people, so he could be monitored around the clock. Even though Harry technically had no right or authority to dictate where Snape should be, he was trying.

"Who would care for him if he were to stay elsewhere?" the Healer asked with a slightly condescending tone.

"Do you know who you're talking to?" Ron asked indignantly. Ron and Hermione had accompanied Harry on this excursion.

"Ron, stop." Hermione whispered, her tone reproving. "It's wrong for Harry to try to pull the celebrity card in dealing with this."

"He would stay with me!" Harry said loudly, drowning out his friends' arguing voices.

The Healer smirked. "You are what, eighteen?"

"Yeah, I am." Harry said, standing up a little taller.

"That is far too young to be caring for an adult. Besides, you unfortunately have no familial or legal ties to Mr. Snape." She pursed her lips in mock sympathy. "He will have to stay here."

Harry bit his lip as he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt going into a room to visit his sick grandfather. Ron nudged Harry and he, fighting down feelings of guilt and shame, he stepped into the hall.

"Minister, could you come here for a moment?"

H.P.

A few days later, Harry and Snape had been settled back into the lake cottage. After Harry had asked Kingsley to come over and talk to the Healer, she quickly changed her tune and allowed Snape to stay with Harry.

It had been decided that Ron would come and live with Harry at the cottage, so that the two of them could train to become Aurors together. Half of the time Ron would still be helping George out at the joke shop, while Harry took care of Snape. Hermione would be returning to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year with Ginny.

Snape was set up in his bed, hooked up to a complicated-looking machine that was keeping him fed and monitoring his vitals. It all looked totally foreign to Harry, but Hermione had exclaimed something about a "Muggle feeding tube" when she had seen it. Nevertheless, Snape was still comatose.

The days faded into weeks. Harry redecorated his room to include two twin beds for him and Ron, and stocked the kitchen with significantly more food to satisfy his friend's bottomless appetite. They spent the mornings swimming and practicing Defense spells, often dueling with each other, and in the afternoons Ron headed to Diagon Alley while Harry went up to sit in Snape's room.

News had broken of Lestrange's death and Snape's current state, so often Harry would read the humorously inaccurate newspaper articles to Snape, or just ramble about his day and life, mostly to entertain himself and fill the silence. He knew, logically, that Snape couldn't hear him, but he liked to think that somewhere, he was listening.

Harry hated the waiting, the constant expectation, the inaction. Even when he had been fighting Voldemort, although it had been incredibly difficult and stressful, he had always had a plan, a goal. The action and mayhem of finding Horcruxes had always distracted him from the reality of his losses and possibility of his own death. But now, despite the fun of living with his best friend and the distraction of preparing to be an Auror, Harry hated staring at Snape's face and waiting to see his eyes open.

As autumn came, the weather grew chillier and the leaves in the forest began to turn gold and red. Harry added a few thick blankets to Snape's bed, but still, the man remained asleep. He was sitting on his bed one October evening, reading the _Daily Prophet_, when Ron came in from work.

"How is he?"

"The same." Harry said. "How's George?"

Ron looked down. "The same." He echoed, then looked up. "Let's have some dinner."

The two ambled downstairs, where Ron had made them stew. Ever since moving to the cottage Ron had become a bit of a cook, if only for self-preservation. In the first few days, Harry hadn't cooked – he hadn't been eating much since the incident – and since Snape was obviously indisposed, Ron had nobody to look to but himself for nourishment. Thus, he had started making food, which was surprisingly not bad.

Harry ladled himself a small portion of stew and began eating. Ron was watching him with a funny expression.

"Harry, can I ask you a question?" Ron asked, looking uncharacteristically grave.

"What?" said Harry warily. He knew that Ron had been furtively writing Hermione and Ginny letters about his questionable emotional state, and he figured Ron was about to deliver their advice.

"How long are you going to keep doing this?"

"What?" asked Harry, caught off guard.

"I mean," Ron said, looking uncomfortable. "when are you going to – you know – set a time limit? What if – what if Snape never wakes up?"

Harry understood, but looked at Ron as though he didn't. He challenged him to say the words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when are you going to pull the plug?" Ron said. "He can't stay like this forever. He wouldn't have wanted that."

"Don't speak about him like he's already dead!" Harry said, his anger flaring. "It's not your decision to make! You're not his – "

"You're not his son, either, Harry." Ron said gently. Harry reddened slightly and looked down.  
"I know." He said. "I just…it's hard."

"I know it is, mate." Ron said genuinely. "I'm here every day, I see you. It's just something to think about. You don't want to condemn yourself to this kind of existence forever, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." Harry said, feeling numb. "Look, the stew was great. I'm going to head up to bed early, okay?"

"'Kay." Ron said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning, get ready for me to kick your ass at dueling."

Harry forced a smile, cleaned his dish, and trudged upstairs, Ron's words ringing like a bad song in his mind. Pulling the plug? How could he even imagine that?

Was Harry being unrealistically optimistic in thinking that Snape would wake up?

He made his way across the hall to his bedroom, rubbing a weary hand over his face. Feeling a chill in the air from the open window, he decided to add one more blanket to Snape's bed.

He entered the bedroom, discomfited by the eerie silence. He took a large quilt from a chest at the end of the bed and fanned it out over Snape's bed so that it draped over him. In spite of himself, he sat on the edge of the bed next to Snape.

"Ron and I were talking today at dinner and he mentioned a time limit on keeping you alive." Harry said. He needed to get it off his chest. "I think Hermione and Ginny probably told him to ask me…he's been writing about me, to them. I'll see him writing letters and then when I approach him he stuffs them in his desk. He and Hermione have always done that, you should've seen them last year – they were always whispering between themselves when we were travelling in the tent, looking for Horcruxes. It used to bug me, but I guess I should be happy they care." He looked out the window at the lake, lit only by the moonlight. He thought of all the times he had talked to Snape while looking at the water, the deep conversations that had built their relationship, and sighed, wishing above all else, that Snape would just respond. "I just can't believe, though, that he would ask me that. Imagine me asking, if Mr. Weasley were in your position, when he would be ready to pull the plug!" He shook his head, an action nobody could see. "He doesn't realize how much I love you."

Harry gasped internally as he realized what he had just admitted. He turned towards the window, slightly embarrassed, and thus did not notice Snape's eyes flutter open.

"Harry." A raspy voice said.

Harry spun around, staring at Snape's eyelids, where a thin strip of coal black was now visible.

"Harry." Snape repeated. Harry's heart started thumping; he was barely willing to believe his eyes.

"You woke up. From the coma." Harry stated dumbly.

Snape cleared his throat, sitting up a bit. "Wasn't a coma." He rasped. "Dark curse." He cleared his throat again and his voice returned to normal. "I was trapped in my body." He paused momentarily. "But I could hear everything. Everything you read, said, did…" Harry's cheeks reddened slightly. Snape probably thought he was such a loser.

Using all of his self-control not to launch himself at Snape, hug him, and never let go, Harry said, "So how did you get out?"

"We will discuss that la – "

"SNAPE! You're awake!" Ron said, entering through the doorway and holding up his arms in celebration. "Brilliant!"

Snape shot Harry a death glare, which normally would have had him stepping back a few feet, but now made him smile so widely his mouth muscles hurt. He had thought he might never see that glare again.

"Why," Snape said delicately, "is RONALD WEASLEY living in _my _house?!"


	25. Words and Dreams

**A/N: I deeply apologize for the lengthy delay in writing this. College has begun and it has been incredibly hard to find time to write. But I PROMISE that I will finish this story, and will try to update every one or two weeks as I did before. There should be about two or three more chapters. Enjoy**!

S.S

Ron looked down at Severus, sheepishness creeping into his formerly jubilant expression. "It wasn't like I was sleeping in here!" He protested defensively.

"Oh, _Merlin_," Severus muttered, shuddering at the thought. Harry unsuccessfully stifled laughter.

"I was sleeping with Harry!" Ron said brightly. "I mean, er, in Harry's room – "

He continued to mutter on incoherently. Severus rolled his eyes. _Weasley_.

"Hey, Ron," Harry interjected, once he had gotten control of himself. "Could you give me and Snape a moment? In private?"

"What?" Ron asked. "Oh, er, of course." He looked down at Severus and beamed again. "This is great news, really. I'm going to go Owl everyone!" He continued looking between Severus and Harry, smiling, and was so distracted that when walking out he promptly smashed into a wall. He picked himself up and trudged dazedly out of the room. Really, was the blasted boy _blind_?

Harry was laughing heartily and Severus felt himself biting back a small smile. The muscles on his face felt stiff, unused, after so long without movement. He felt stupendous relief flood his entire body, replacing all of the tension and stress.

Harry scooted further back, sitting cross-legged on Severus's bed. "I can't believe you're awake." He said softly.

Severus looked at him intensely. "Me neither."

Both were quiet for a little while, reveling in the moment, until Harry spoke tentatively. "So can you…can you tell me what the spell did? When you're ready." Severus pursed his lips as though tasting something unpleasant. "It is a very, very Dark spell, Potter." He peered at Harry, as though sizing him up to see if he could handle the truth. "It traps the victim in his or her own body, paralyzed, but able to hear and feel and think. The symptoms are usually mistaken for a coma – as they were with me – because people are unable to discern that the victim is actually fully conscious."

"So if you were trapped…how did you get out?" Harry asked, in awe.

Severus fidgeted slightly, looking pointedly away from Harry. "It requires extreme magical power and strength. Naturally, I tried several times." He paused and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "However, after you made a certain…comment, I was able to summon the enormous strength it took and…wake up."

Harry blushed. Severus looked at his hands.

"So you heard when I was, er, reading to you?" Harry said quickly. "And talking? And, oh, Merlin…when I was crying," He finished, his cheeks blushing again.

Severus shifted a bit, sitting up. His black eyes bored intensely into Harry's. "I heard it all." He said simply.

"You probably think I'm a moron," Harry said, wincing slightly, his cheeks red.

Severus shook his head quickly, feeling strangely annoyed. "I don't."

"Really?" Harry said incredulously. "I was reading newspaper articles to you…babbling about the mundane parts of my day…"

"Harry." Severus interrupted quietly. He opened his mouth and then closed it. "You don't…understand." He finished harshly.

"I don't understand what?"

Severus pursed his lips. Normally he was so eloquent and fluid when speaking, with swift comebacks and vituperative castigations, but now he was completely struggling for words. Damn Potter.

"Your behavior the past few weeks, while I've been…indisposed," Severus began, "it meant…"

"Meant what?" Harry pressed.

"I don't know." Severus said, annoyed. "It's…difficult to explain – "

"What do you mean?"

"You don't understand the feeling of being unloved, Potter!" Severus said angrily. He tried to regain composure. "It is not…an enjoyable feeling. People do not seek it out."

Harry's eyes suddenly filled with tears. Severus felt compelled to continue.

"You could have left me on Lestrange's basement floor – "

"I would never!" Harry interjected. "You were still alive!"

"Yet, you thought I was dead!" Severus responded testily. "The mere fact that you took me back, facilitated this arrangement so I could be in my own bed, came in everyday and covered me with these blankets – " He paused and tried again to gain some composure. "You didn't…you didn't need to do that."

"I didn't." Harry agreed. "But I wanted to."

Severus nodded, unsure how to respond.

"You aren't unloved, you know. You never were." Harry said softly.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I beg to differ, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "My mother loved you." He said. "Even though she's gone, her love is still within you. It will always be a part of you, and it means you'll always be loved." He paused. "And now, as an added bonus, you have me, and the Weasleys. Not to mention, your enormous fan base of desperate witches."

Severus felt himself laugh slightly, and when Harry's face pathetically lit up at the sound, Severus felt a warmth in his chest that he couldn't really describe.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry said.

Severus rolled his eyes dramatically. Classic Potter question. "What?"

"Why did you choose to come back with me?"

Severus pursed his lips. He had hoped that this discussion could be delayed. "It would not be fair to leave you to face Lestrange alone." He said carefully.

Harry narrowed his eyes in a Severus-like fashion. Pushing down the returning feelings of warmth, Severus gave him what he hoped was a detached look. "What's the real reason?" Harry pressed.

"That's the real reason, Potter." Severus rolled his eyes.

"No, be honest." Harry said. "I want to know if it was for pity."

Severus had been planning on not responding and moving onto a different subject, but he was so affronted he spoke before he could stop himself. "_Pity_?" He asked incredulously. "Do you take me for a sentimental man, Potter?"

"No." Harry said. "But you have this unusual…loyalty. Sense of duty."

"Potter, it was not a decision I made lightly." Severus said. If only the boy could understand.

"I didn't mean that." Harry shook his head quickly. "I just wanted to make sure…that you _wanted_ to come back with me."

Severus looked away. "I did. Trust me."

"With my life, I do." Harry said quietly.

Severus looked at Harry, the boy's expression kind and content, and felt a powerful rush of affection. He reached out and squeezed the boy's shoulder, softly adding, "Despite your occasional idiocy, I trust you too."

Suddenly, Severus felt his entire torso enveloped in a strong hug. Despite his weak condition, he squeezed Harry back.

H.P.

"So did you enjoy the party?" Harry asked, smiling slightly.

Harry, in a moment of questionable judgment, had decided to host a small party after Severus "came back" from his coma. Severus had begrudgingly agreed to it, mostly because it seemed to mean so much to Harry. But he had flatly refused to give a speech – or really speak at all, except in one-on-one conversations – so Harry had given a brief toast, at which Mrs. Weasley had started sobbing hysterically.

"It was fine." Severus said evasively. "However, the Weasley woman…" He rolled his eyes.

Harry smiled. "She can be a little overemotional."

"_Excessively_ so." Severus said. "You'd have thought we were father and son and I was the only family you had left, the way she was acting." He rolled his eyes, then stilled as he realized what he had said.

Hurt shot through Harry like fire. "Don't insult her." He said angrily, his entire body stiff and cold.

Severus looked distinctly uncomfortable. Ignoring Harry's misdirected anger, he said, "You misunderstood me."

"I didn't know that that…idea…was so ludicrous and repulsive to you."  
Harry said, feeling his hands shaking as his face got red. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm going to bed."

He got up from his chair and walked upstairs, cracking his knuckles and biting his lip.

He threw open his door and quickly shut it, sliding down the side until he was sitting on his hard wooden floor.

It wasn't that he wanted Snape to declare to the world that he thought of Harry as his son; but wasn't it kind of implied? Wasn't in obvious, in the way both of them acted and spoke to each other? Was Harry the only one who felt that way?

He heard a knock on the door. "Leave." Harry said.

"Grow up, Potter." Snape said impatiently.

"That's definitely the right way to get my forgiveness – insulting me." Harry said sarcastically.

"Forgiveness for what?" Snape's voice asked.

Aggravated, Harry stood up and yanked open the door to see Snape standing there, hands on his hips.

"For that comment!" Harry said hotly. "Does the idea of having that sort of…relationship with me disgust you?" He snorted derisively. "I guess the thought of being a father figure to me would repulse you. Some things don't change."

"Stop it." Snape said harshly. He strode into the room and sat on a chair, rubbing his temples with his long fingers. "Sit over there." He gestured at the bed.

"I'm not your student anymore. Don't order me around."

Snape raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms until Harry, muttering rudely and rolling his eyes, moved over and sat stiffly on the bed.

"Harry." Snape said quietly. "I implore you to listen to me without interruption." He paused. "I don't think you will ever fully appreciate the impact that you have had on me. You don't understand how much it takes for me to say the merest sentimental thing – to be anything but closed-off. You have changed me in ways I can't even explain. And that is why I made the decision to stay with you – not because I pitied you, or didn't love your mother, but because I genuinely _wanted_ to stay with you." He paused. "Now, in reference to today, of course the thought of adoption has crossed – "

"I – what? _Adoption_?" Harry breathed.

Snape twitched like he was mentally slapping himself. "Forget I said that. I simply meant – "

"But – why – " Harry stuttered, trying to wrap his head around what Snape had said.

"Forget it!" Snape said, clearly trying to backtrack. "You misunderstood – "

"I would…I would love to be adopted by you." Harry said loudly and clearly, having composed himself.

Snape shook his head, looking uncharacteristically disoriented and confused. "Potter!" He barked, but without any venom. "I merely meant…our living situation…not totally ludicrous…but it was _not_ an offer…" He looked up at Harry with narrowed eyes, clearly hoping his infamous stare would compensate for his stuttering words.

"I know it wasn't an explicit offer," Harry conceded, "but nevertheless, it was implied, and I accept."

Both men were quiet for a long time, Harry looking at Snape patiently, even serenely, and Snape staring back tensely. Finally, he broke the silence.

"You don't want me to adopt you, Potter."

"Yes, I do."

"No." Snape said harshly. "First, you're overage, so it wouldn't even matter. Second, the entire public would be in an outrage that a Death Eater is adopting the Boy Who Lived. And lastly, your father and godfather would roll over in their graves if they knew you were even considering it."

Now Harry felt himself getting angry again. "Stop it."

"I'm just being realistic." Snape said emotionlessly.

"No, stop it!" Harry said hotly. "Whenever we get to emotional topics you shut me out, and now you're being mean – "

"All those things I said are completely true." Snape said. "I was not saying them to be _mean_. Your father would literally have disowned you if he knew what you were doing – and the mutt probably would have never spoken to you again."

Harry felt random feelings of doubt begin to surface and tried to push them down. Clenching his jaw, he said, "Just leave." And with a swoosh of his cloak, his expression emotionless and unreadable, Snape swept out of the room.

Rubbing his temples, Harry lay down on the bed and within seconds, had fallen into a fitful sleep.

_Harry woke in a small, strangely familiar room filled with white light. There was a plush sofa, large bookcase, mahogany coffee table, and a few toys scattered around on the floor. _

_ With a small start, Harry realized he was in his old house – the one where he had lived with his parents, when he was a baby. _

_ Aware that he was dreaming, but unsure how to get out, he took a seat on the sofa and peered around. To his confusion, the bookcase was filled with Potions textbooks. _

_ "Harry?" an ethereal voice called. _

_ Harry spun around and gasped at the sight he saw. Standing in the doorway were Lily and James, looking happy and youthful. Harry rushed over and let both of their strong arms envelop him; there really was no better feeling in the world, than being in his parents' arms. _

_ After a few moments they all went over to the sofa. Harry sat in the middle and Lily beside him, still gripping his hand. James sat on the coffee table, facing them. _

_ "Why are you here?" Harry breathed, scared they would disappear. _

_ "We've seen what's been going on." Lily said. _

_ "And we want you to know how we feel." James added._

_ "I know that Severus mentioned…adopting you today." Lily ventured. Harry cast a glance at James to gauge his reaction, but he remained contentedly smiling at Harry. "We want you to know…nothing would make us happier."_

_ "I – what?" Harry asked. "Even…even you, Dad?"_

_ James nodded firmly. "Snape turned out to be a good man, Harry." He said. "In fact, a great man. There is nobody who I would rather…take my place."_

_ "He's not taking your place." Harry said quickly. _

_ "I understand." James said. "But as a father figure, he is perfect for the job. Just don't start wearing all black." Harry laughed. _

_ "Also, sweetheart," Lily said, "your father and I discussed it and…if you want to call Severus something else, he wouldn't mind. Not one bit."_

_ "I think that would be too weird." Harry said honestly. "But I…I appreciate what you're saying. Thank you." He said earnestly. "I just…I just don't know if Snape is going to come around to the idea. Of adoption." _

_ Lily and James, to Harry's surprise, both laughed. "Oh, Harry," Lily said, smiling, "I won't be surprised if he's come around to the idea at this very moment. Severus is really such a softie. Don't worry about him." _

_ Harry nodded, then hesitated. "You both…you promise you don't mind?" _

_ They both nodded firmly. "Harry, all any parent wants is to see their child happy and safe." James said. "With Snape, you are both. It's more than we could have hoped for – we only wish you'd had it sooner." _

_ Harry nodded as Lily squeezed his hand. "One more thing, love." She said softly. "Tell Severus that I have always loved him, and always will. That will never change." _

_ Harry, ignoring the spurt of wetness in his eyes, nodded. "I will."_

_ "Good. Then there are a few other people who want to say hi." Lily said. _

_ Harry's heart soared as he saw Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and Fred come into the room, all looking happier and healthier than he could remember them looking in life. After giving each of them long hugs, they all sat down, beaming. _

_ "Good thing you've made Ron learn to cook, Harry," Fred said. "The boy needs to learn some life skills. Preferably he would have learned to interact with girls first, but I guess he and Hermione are doing okay."_

_ Everyone laughed and Harry grinned widely, ecstatic to be laughing at Fred Weasley again. With Lily still holding his hand, and Sirius draping an arm over his shoulders, Harry spent the next few hours chatting with all of them – talking about Teddy, Ginny, and everyone in between. _

_ "There's something I'd like you to tell Molly, Harry." Lily said. "Tell her that I've been looking after Fred, as she looked after you all these years." _

_ Harry nodded firmly. "Of course." _

_ Tonks, next to Lily, leaned her head on her shoulder. "Your mum is pretty awesome, Harry." She said. "It's not easy being up here sometimes – Remus and I left Teddy, Fred left George and his whole family, Sirius left you – but she always knows what to say."_

_ Lily smiled, caressing Harry's cheek for a moment. "I've had a lot of practice being sad, and missing the ones I left behind." She said softly. "I know what to do now." _

_ They all chatted, until Lily, with the air of having to do something unpleasant, said that it was time for Harry to return. After each having hugged Harry, they all moved toward the door and looked back at Harry, on the other side of the room. _

_ "Talk to Severus, Harry." Lily said. _

_ "And remember that we all love you." James added. _

_ "I love all of you too." Harry said, and within moments their faces disappeared and he was back in his bed, jumping up to go talk to Snape. _


	26. Love

**A/N: I am SO sorry that this has taken so long. But I am on break from college for a little while and I hope to complete a few chapters before I return. As I have said before, I promise to never abandon this story. Hope you enjoy the long overdue update :)**

H.P.

Harry quickly reached the top of the stairs and then paused. He was sure about this, right? He tiptoed down the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. Snape, wearing a thick green bathrobe, was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a mug of steaming tea. Yes, Harry was sure.

He walked down and sat across from Snape, whose coal eyes darted across his face.

"I'm sorry I was so rude." Harry said. "Your comment…caught me off guard."

Snape stared at him saying nothing, looking neither angry nor happy.

"You know how I told you that I spoke with Dumbledore when Voldemort destroyed my scar?" Harry said conversationally. Snape made no movement. "Well, that just happened again. With, er, different people." Snape raised his eyebrows impassively.

Harry scowled, and to his surprise, saw a flit of amusement in Snape's stony expression. The man had such a weird sense of humor.

"Severus." Harry said, folding his hands together and looking past Snape's shoulder at the bright moon. "For my entire life I have been searching for…parents. Merlin knows I didn't get it at Dursleys; the Weasleys have always been great, but they have seven other kids. Sirius…" he trailed off and glanced at Snape. He looked tired.

"I thought I had found it with Sirius." Harry stated. "And then when he was gone…once I had known what it was like, the void felt bigger than ever.

"If you had told me a year ago that I would be sitting at your kitchen table, broaching the topic of adoption, I would have…I haven't a clue what I would've done. I hated you and everything you were.

"But looking back and knowing what was really going on…I've said it a hundred times, but I would never have been able to do what you did. I could never hope to be as half as brave."

"You are." Snape muttered, his expression softening infinitesimally.

Harry fought the urge to smile. "I'm not." He cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say it that – that thing I've been searching for – I have found it. In the evil, mean, ex-Death Eater Severus Snape, no less."

To Harry's surprise, Snape rolled his eyes and his lips turned up ever so slightly.

"I don't want to force you to…adopt me." Harry said. "As you said, I'm overage, and it has no bearing on any legalities at this point. It would just be a formality. But I think if we are living like that anyway, why not?"

Snape remained quiet for a long time, looking steadily into Harry's eyes.

"The wizarding world will have a fit." He finally said.

"Snape, please don't tell me you've chosen now to start caring what others think of you." Snape smirked.

"Certainly not. I just thought it could be a concern to you."

"Certainly not." Harry parroted. He stared at Snape in suspense.

"I – fine." Snape finally said. Warmth bloomed in Harry's chest. "Fine. I will…adopt you."

Harry smiled, trying to tone down his happiness. "Okay." He stood up and motioned to Snape. "We just had a moment, Snape. Give me a hug."

Snape rolled his eyes dramatically but slowly rose to his feet. Harry clasped his arms around Snape's back, the word "father" rolling around his head pleasantly. At that moment, a groggy Ron appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Morning!" he rasped. "Have you two, er, made up?"

Harry nodded, smiling as Snape looked at Ron with slightly less distaste as usual.

"I kind of heard your conversation from the stairs." He admitted sheepishly. "I was coming down for tea and heard you talking and didn't want to go to back to bed – well, anyway, congratulations!" He grinned widely. "I think a hug is in order!" And before anyone knew what was going on, Ron gave Snape a quick, tight hug.

Snape looked like he'd been attacked when Ron released him, and appeared even more disturbed when Ron subsequently clapped him on the back, but he did spare an amused glance at Harry.

"I'm gonna go write Hermione!" Ron exclaimed excitedly, and sauntered into the living room.

"I question what Granger, with all her brains, sees in that boy." Snape muttered as he poured Harry tea. "One day he's going to accidentally walk off a cliff."

But Harry was barely listening, internally reveling in the impending reality of his childhood fantasy: _he was going to be adopted_.

S.S.

The officiation was secretive and quick, as to not attract so much attention. The wizard filing the paperwork looked slightly confused as Snape impatiently said he would like to adopt Harry, irritably waving his hand when the wizard mentioned that Harry was overage. Harry had just smiled widely during the entire ordeal.

Weasley and Granger came over that night for a small celebration. Weasley made a surprisingly decent shepherd's pie and after dinner the two boys sat playing wizard's chess while Severus sat with Granger, whom, he had to admit, he did like.

Very few adults decades older than him could keep up with his wit and intellect in conversations, but Granger did so effortlessly.

"I have never seen Harry so happy." She stated simply.

Snape scoffed. "I don't believe that."

Granger shook her head. "I'm not kidding." She paused. "Do you know what Harry saw in the Mirror of Erised?" Snape shook his head. "He saw his parents."

Snape nodded. "He likely still would." He said evenly.

"I'm not so sure about that." Granger said, smiling gently at Severus. "He has you now." She squeezed his hand lightly as she got up to get dessert.

As Severus walked past Harry's room that night, he slowly walked toward the doorway. He ought to say good night, right? Isn't that what…_parents_ did?

"Good night, Potter." Severus said, pulling the door closed as Harry extinguished his light.

"I'm kind of your son now, you know." Harry said softly. "You could call me Harry."

Severus ignored the urge to smile. His son. "Or I can call you the pigheaded brat you are." Harry laughed. "Good night…Harry."

"Good night, Severus." Harry paused. "I love you."

Severus, taken aback, startled briefly. "Despite your frequent idiocy, I…love you as well." And with blurry eyes, he closed his son's door and walked down the hallway to his room.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story! I am definitely going to do about three or four more chapters, which will all consist of one-shots at different points in Harry's and Snape's lives. Again, so sorry for the terrible delay. Keep sharing thoughts, and I am open to any suggestions for good one-shot scenes!**


	27. OS: Post-Auror Initiation

OS: post-Auror initiation

**H.P. **

"This color is hideous." Severus said distastefully, looking down at his new crimson Auror robes with pursed lips. "I'm sure a Gryffindor designed them."

"You know most people in this department were Gryffindors." Harry remarked, stretching out in his seat as he looked around Snape's new office with interest. "This office is enormous." He said with slight envy.

"Astute observation." Severus said, carefully organizing jars of potions on a shelf behind his desk.

Rolling his eyes, Harry quirked an eyebrow at Severus. "I guess the biggest office would go to the _Head_ of the Auror office."

"Stop calling me that," Severus muttered modestly.

"And, you didn't even go through training." Harry continued proudly, ignoring his comments. "They let you right in."

"You didn't have to go through training either."

"That's because I'm the Chosen One," Harry said, smiling. "It's a life of privilege."

Severus scowled without malice and pushed Harry's feet off of his desk, where they had been resting. "Not that much privilege." He said pointedly.

"I'll need to have Hermione or Ginny help you do some decorating in here." Harry said thoughtfully, looking around at the empty walls and high ceilings. "Warm colors, lots of flowers, paintings of landscapes. Maybe a doily or two."

"My dream." Severus muttered sarcastically. He turned to the remains of his small box of belongings. "All of the office decorations are right here."

Severus pulled out an expensive quill, a small replica of Hogwarts Harry had given him, and a framed photo of him and Harry that Hermione had taken at the lake.

In the photo, Severus's hair was the same length at Harry's, his face was slightly tanned, and he was wearing a classic Muggle summer outfit. Harry, dressed similarly, stood next to him on the sand. Each had an arm across the others' shoulder in front of a bleeding setting sun, and Severus was even smiling a little.

"I like that picture." Harry commented, grazing it with his thumb.

Severus nodded. "Me too."

After he had placed his sparse belongings on his desk, he sat down and surveyed the room with slight confusion, as though unsure how he had come in this position. He rubbed his left forearm almost self-consciously.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked.

"Like a contradiction." He said esoterically.

"What?"

"I am the only one in this place with a Dark Mark underneath these robes." He said, more to himself than Harry. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it with a frown.

"If you're concerned about your worthiness of being an Auror," Harry said gently but pointedly, "you have the least to worry about of anyone in this whole office. Believe me."

Severus cast him a fleeting grateful glance and nodded. "Let's go home. What did you make for dinner?"

Grateful for the change in topic, Harry smiled. "Beef stew!"

"Oh Merlin, Harry." Severus said darkly. "Your beef stew is horrible." He said bluntly. "I'll make us something else."

As Harry rolled his eyes and jokingly defended his beef stew, the two black-haired, crimson-robed men left the room.

**8 more one-shots to go. Thank you for your patience, you are all THE best.**

**Caroline**


	28. Mother Hen

O.S.

**Mother Hen **

"We're going outside!" Harry called to Severus, who was intently reading a book on the couch, as he walked through the door holding Teddy's hand.

"Sunscreen." Severus said without looking up.

"Oh, right," Harry said sheepishly. He pilfered through the cabinet and grabbed the orange bottle, shaking his head and wondering why there was no spell that offered skin protection from the sun. He tried, unsuccessfully, to lather the lotion on Teddy, but the little boy began to writhe and pull away.

"No, Hawy!" he cried.

Harry tried to hold him steady and at least get some on his face, but he continued to slap away his hand.

"Young man." A voice said, as Severus bent down next to Harry and grasped Teddy's wrist. "Calm down." And in one swift motion, Teddy stood still and Snape efficiently but gently covered every inch of exposed skin with sunscreen.

"Be more authoritative," Severus chided Harry gently, and in a moment he was back to reading his book on the couch.

Grinning at Snape, Harry took his godson's hand and headed outside. They spent a pleasant afternoon at the lake, swimming and building elaborate sand castles (magic helped with that) and eating popsicles. Every once in a while, when Teddy would scream with glee when Harry splashed him, he would see Snape's face appear at the window briefly, confirming that everything was okay.

As the day wore on, Harry began to feel slightly ill. Work had been keeping him late recently, and despite Snape's protests that he would take care of everything and Harry should go home, Harry often stayed. He didn't want to miss a major event because he was too weak to stay awake.

By the time the sun had set and they were going inside, Harry could barely hold himself upright. Snape peered at him with mild concern, and stuck out his hand to feel his forehead and test for a fever. Harry internally marveled at how automatic and instinctive the caring gesture was.

"Go to sleep. I'll watch him." He said firmly. Harry, too tired to protest, nodded and headed upstairs.

About seven hours later, in the middle of the night, Harry woke up ravenous. Putting on his slippers, he pattered downstairs. Frowning at the whispers he heard, he figured it must be Snape practicing curses.

But as he went into the living room, his heart warmed immeasurably at the sight he saw.

Snape was sitting in a rocking chair with Teddy nestled against him, reading to the little boy as a fire crackled behind them. Snape held the book in one hand, but his other gently rested on Teddy's fluffy, multi-colored hair, as the little boy leaned his head against Snape's chest.

Severus startled as he saw Harry. "The boy couldn't sleep."

Harry nodded, barely concealing his smile. "Neither could I. Can I…can I listen?"

Severus nodded, smiling imperceptibly. Harry sat down on the rug at his feet like a little boy and listened as Snape's soothing, strong voice lulled him to sleep.

Snape closed the book and levitated Harry's body to the couch, covering it with thick blankets. He gently placed Teddy in his makeshift crib and went to the kitchen to grab some paper.

He was going to teach that boy how to make some potions tomorrow.

**Hope you all enjoyed this super brief OS! I have about ten more, then I'll be writing a new story : ) keep reviewing, and thank you all for your patience! **


	29. Permission

Permission 

"I need some advice." Harry said suddenly.

Snape peered up from his evening tea, his thick eyebrows furrowed. "About what?"

Harry turned red, staring at his own tea intensely. "Never mind."

"Harry." Snape said pointedly.

Harry looked back at him, his face still flushed. "I…er, uh, I've been thinking…it's been so long – "

"Potter!" Snape barked. "Dark wizards are killing people out there, people we should be helping, and you're sitting here unable to speak a simple thought. Spit it out."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm thinking about proposing to Ginny."

Snape allowed himself a small smile, not surprised in the least. He felt unprecedented pride blossom in his chest.

"Do you – do you think it's a good idea?" Harry asked, looking self-conscious.

"Harry." Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Do I think it's a good idea for you to marry someone who you have loved since you were sixteen, who has loved you back for even longer, and maintained that love even when you left her to risk your life killing Voldemort?" He smirked. "Yes, I think that is a good idea."

Harry suddenly beamed. "I – good. Thanks. I just – wanted to double check with you, you being my, uh…dad and all. I thought it was a good idea."

Snape's eyes softened. He nodded.

"I just – uh…" Harry continued, still looking a bit ill at ease. "You think…you think she'll say yes, right?"

Snape rolled his eyes dramatically. "For Merlin's sake, Potter." He said sternly. "At times you're unbearably arrogant, and the next, you're unbearably unconfident." He widened his eyes. "She will say yes."

Harry smiled again, and nodded as though reassured. "Thanks."

Snape nodded. Harry got up, put on his traveling cloak, and gave Snape's shoulder a squeeze, suddenly energized. "I'm going to go do it now. Before I lose my nerve. I'll see you later!" And with a crack, he was gone.

Snape glanced at his unfinished tea, a smile on his lips. He hoped that idiotic boy had thought to buy a ring.


	30. Men in Black

Men in Black 

"Oh, Harry, you look just dashing!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry laughed heartily as Ron clapped him on the back. "Thanks, Hermione. You guys look great."

The three stood a little ways away from Hagrid's hut, a well-tread path for them. But this time, they weren't visiting their giant friend or escaping danger. They were dressed in their formal best, and the grounds around them were decorated beautifully with hanging fairy lights, massive vases of flowers, and several gold chairs preceding a small decorated archway. Hogwarts, framed by the cloudless blue sky, served as a backdrop.

"I'm so happy you decided to get married at Hogwarts," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It really is the perfect place, isn't it?"

Harry looked around, first at his two friends, then all of the seated guests, and finally up at the castle. Memories washed over him. "I agree."

"Isn't it weird to think," Ron said, "that in just a half hour we will all be _related_?"

Hermione smirked. "By marriage, Ron. You make it sound like we're all incestuous!"

The three laughed heartily. Suddenly, Snape emerged from Hagrid's hut a few feet away, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"That blasted dog," Snape muttered, coming over to the three of them and magically clearing his formal dress robes of what looked like slobber. "Hagrid asks me, clearly at an inopportune time, to "check out" his ailing dog, and then when I inform him the mutt simply has a toothache – for which I give him medication – he has the nerve to QUESTION my authority!" Snape glared at them all as though they had offended him.

Harry chuckled. "I didn't know you were such an animal lover."

"Oh yes," Snape said sarcastically. "After that joyful encounter, I might just quit my job as an Auror and become an animal Healer."

Ron blanched for a second.

"He's kidding, Ron," Hermione said with a smile.

Color returned to Ron's face. "Oh, thank Merlin. For a second I thought you were serious. You're a great Head of the Auror office, I don't know if we'd survive without you!"

Snape opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure how to respond to the compliment.

"Let's go get a bit more of that pudding before the ceremony," Hermione said, tugging Ron's arm. His face brightened at the mention of food.

"See you later Harry!" Ron called as the two walked off.

Snape shook his head. "That best friend of yours. He's so daft."

Harry smiled. Snape reached out quickly to fix his tie.

"Thank you."

Snape quickly stuck his wand near Harry's lips. Harry tasted mint in his mouth.

"You don't want your breath to stink when you kiss Ginny." Snape said, smirking. "We can't have her leave you at the altar. Your ego would never recover." He brushed Harry's shoulders and gave him a once over. "Ready?"

Harry reached out and gave Snape a tight hug. He returned the pressure.

"Alright, Harry," Snape said, walking towards the crowd with his hand on his son's shoulder. "Let's get you married."


End file.
